


To Stand On

by Cumberbatch Critter (ivelostmyspectacles)



Category: Dragon Age II, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Anger, Angst, Anxiety, Arguing, Bathing/Washing, Canon-Typical Violence, Complicated Relationships, Coping, Crisis of Faith, Deep Conversations, Denial, Domesticity, Dominant Fenris, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotions are all over the place here folks, Epic Battles, Exhibitionism, Fenris goes with Hawke to Skyhold, Fenris in Dragon Age: Inquisition, Fluff, Hand Jobs, Hawke Has Issues, Hawke Has PTSD, Healthy Relationships, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Kissing, M/M, Making Out, Making Up, Nightmares, Purple Hawke, Romance, Serious Injuries, Spooning, Survivor Guilt, The Fade, They're going through the unimaginable, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, fears, idk there is a lot going on here, on the battlements, things always happen on battlements, where's the tag for the fact that Fenris completes Hawke and vice versa
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-31
Updated: 2016-08-02
Packaged: 2018-07-11 08:34:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 18
Words: 49,365
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7041010
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ivelostmyspectacles/pseuds/Cumberbatch%20Critter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He breathed in slowly and held it. Counting in his head. One, two, three. Steeling himself for what he was entertaining, allowing. Blew the breath out through his teeth and looked back at Fenris. "Fine. But no being reckless for me," he ordered. "No matter the situation, promise me, Fenris."</p><hr/><p>Fenris refuses to be left behind, and so they begin their journey <i>together</i>.</p><p>[Canon divergence - Fenris goes with Hawke. Starts directly before "Here Lies the Abyss" and ends afterwards. Yes. The whole journey.]</p><p> </p><p>NOW WITH FANART~</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> I have been working on this for a month and a half and I finally got it all written up. And that means I can start posting! I'm so excited for this one. I'm sure there's also 100 like it, but I didn't look, and just did my thing. Like said, it begins at the beginning and ends a little beyond the end of "Here Lies the Abyss" and there is lots of Fenris, just like there should have been. Oh, and Hawke is purple. So, SO purple.
> 
> (Also, I've been working on about three different AUs at once; if you notice anything that doesn't fit, please kindly bring it to my attention. Don't yell at me. The writer gets stressed. xD)
> 
> I do not own _Dragon Age II._ Thanks for reading!
> 
>  
> 
> **Image included in the beginning of story text. If you cannot see the image, please click[here ](http://archiveofourown.org/works/7041010/chapters/16013179#chapter_1_endnotes)for text.**

  

 

Hawke stared at Varric's familiar scrawl on the parchment, and he didn't know whether he should be surprised, or just... resigned. Because of _course_ Corypheus wasn't dead. Why would he be? Nothing ever worked the way that they thought it was going to, why would Corypheus be any different? And seeing as how they'd let that cat out of its bag, well, it was their mess to clean up. So, no, Hawke wasn't really surprised. Scratch that out. Resigned was a _much_ better choice.

"Any news from Kirkwall?" Fenris asked, fingers pressing against Hawke's forearm. He rest his chin against his shoulder to peer at the paper in Hawke's fingers. "Is that from Varric?"

Hawke glanced over his shoulder, frowning slightly. "Yeah. You'd better read it. Or I'll read it to you."

"I can read it." Fenris plucked the paper from between his fingers. "All of the practice was not for nothing." He leaned against Hawke's shoulder, and Hawke wrapped his arms around him instinctively, although it didn't chase away the frown as he continued to look at the parchment.

Corypheus... but how... he'd been _dead_. Hawke knew what _dead_ looked like, and Corypheus wasn't going to be any more than dead than he had been when they had left him.

"Corypheus?" Fenris hissed, dragging Hawke out of his head. Hawke tightened his grip around him. He could feel the increase of tension building in his partner's shoulders as Fenris continued to read and could say that he felt no different. Corypheus had been their problem, and because they hadn't been able to finish the job... "Corypheus was _dead_ ," Fenris spat, wriggling free of Hawke's arms to turn and face him. "We were certain."

"Death doesn't seem to be particularly final, does it?"

Fenris's nose wrinkled with distaste, dropping the parchment onto the table. "This is not funny."

"No," Hawke agreed. "It's not." But such was his lot to diffuse situations with humor, and sitting here thinking about it was going to get them nowhere.

Fenris gazed at him for a moment, speculatively, before jade eyes narrowed and he turned away. "How could this happen?"

"I don't know. You know all that I do."

"That was rhetorical."

"Even still."

And even though it was going to be another mess that they were getting caught up in, there was no true way that Hawke could tell Varric he wasn't coming. There was no way that he _couldn't_ go. This had been their problem to put to rest, and Varric was right: Hawke wanted to be there. He had to finish this.

"Hawke."

Fenris was looking at him. Too intently, even, and Hawke knew that Fenris was figuring him out even as they looked at each other.

"You're going," Fenris said, after that moment's pause where Hawke could swear that the elf was staring straight into his soul. "Of course you're going."

Hawke smiled. Fake and put-upon. It had been years and yet? Not long enough, not long enough to put distance between him and Kirkwall, himself and the people who wanted the Champion, needed the Champion. It wasn't that he was bitter. He wasn't. Not really. He didn't regret helping out everyone who had needed help - save the one decision he had made with Anders, not knowing the outcome. But being relied on like that... was exhausting. There was no other word for it. It was exhausting, and at times he had wanted nothing more than to bar his door and stop his post and stay home, with Fenris at his side, and have wine and fancy Orlesian cheese in front of the firelight.

Fancy Orlesian cheese nonwithstanding, they had, more or less, had that the past few years. Hawke was grateful for that, too, but his nature? Would always get the better of him.

So, yes, _of course_ he was going. He couldn't leave people to die. Not like this.

Fenris sighed softly. The tendrils of hair falling into his face ruffled with the breath. "Naturally." He pushed those stray hairs out of his face and turned for the hall. "I'll gather our things, then. You should send the bird back with a message. Varric will want to know."

Wait, what? What was Fenris talking about? He couldn't- this was _dangerous_. Potentially even more dangerous than they could guess at right now, because of Corypheus having been dead but apparently not dead. And not even taking the magister himself into account, there were demons pouring from the Fade rifts that only the Inquisition's newest recruit could evidently close. There was the Venatori cult, a cult of which Hawke only knew as much about as he could glean from Varric's hastily scrawled letters over the months. Even those letters had stopped for awhile; when Hawke had learned Haven had been destroyed, it had felt like ice had crashed into his lungs, freezing solid, threatening to choke him with its vice-like grip around his throat, a crushing weight that had gotten worse when Varric hadn't written. No, please no, please not another one of my _friends_.

What if they went, and that sentiment came up again? What if, instead of worrying that Varric had been trapped in Haven's downfall, what if something happened to _Fenris_? The very thought clenched Hawke's stomach, pressed the black weight of anxiety down on his chest. For a moment, he could envision coming home without Fenris, with just the red favor and his own memories. For a moment, he couldn't breathe. His hand came down a little too heavily on the tabletop as he reached for something to steady himself with, seeing as how Fenris was out of the room and unable to ground him himself.

Hawke couldn't count on both hands how many times over the past years that Fenris had shaken him awake in the middle of the night, and the concerned, quietly panicked way that he looked at him each time. Fenris once confessed that he worried that Hawke would be tempted by the demons in the dreams, and on the nights that he did not wake up without a sharp slap from lyrium fingers that shook afterwards, that he would lose him forever. Those were the nights that Hawke pulled Fenris into his arms and said it was fine and held the elf while he still trembled a little, and Hawke pretended that he wasn't shaking himself.

He couldn't count how many times those dreams had come close to doing that. How many dreams he didn't think he'd wake up from. How many times he'd had to hold himself together just so that Fenris could relax and go back to sleep, and he'd lay there with the images of a burning Kirkwall, of a Chantry exploding, of the blood of mages and templars alike spilled on the ground, the bodies of victims, _innocent_ victims, piled into heaps as he charged through the city, companions hot on his heels as they collected their things and fled.

If Fenris had been one of those bodies... the thought that Fenris could be one of those bodies, even now...

The breath he took wheezed through a too-tight throat as he lifted his chin, staggering a step towards their bedroom. "Fenris."

"Yes?" Fenris did not look up from rifling through their small collection of clothing.

This would not go over well. They would fight. But Hawke _couldn't_ \- "You have to stay here."

Now the elf did look up, directly ahead at the grimy wall with its peeling paper. He was silent. The wheels were turning. Hawke waited to say anything else, waited to see what Fenris would say, knowing that nothing he _could_ say could make this right, make it better, make it easier.

But then Fenris turned his attention back to their trunk. "We'll need furs if we're to trek through the snow. And you your boots. They're over there." He gestured away, and said nothing more. As if he hadn't heard. As if he had chosen to disregard Hawke's words.

Hawke closed his eyes. "Fenris..."

"You are not going alone," Fenris interrupted.

"You _can't_ -"

"I can judge what I can and cannot do, Hawke," Fenris said, flatly, pleasantly, even, but with a hardness to his voice that made Hawke want to reach out and hold him. He did not. Fenris turned, the bundle of furs in his arms. "You have been an advocate of my choosing my own path. Do not take those words back now."

"I'm not taking that back, you should make your own decisions," Hawke countered, "but now really isn't the time for a debate on-"

Fenris was shaking his head already. "It is not a debate. It is not up for debate. You are not going alone," he repeated, and shoved the furs into Hawke's arms.

Then Hawke stepped forward, thrusting his arms forward to catch Fenris around his torso instead of catching the furs. He pulled him in close, tucking him into his body in the way that the smaller elf seemed to fit. He wanted to kiss him, but Fenris's head found its place tucked under his neck and Hawke couldn't move, couldn't bear to move from the embrace. _I just need him here in my arms. I just need him to be safe._ He had sent up the prayer once before, before the final battle in the Gallows, and they had walked away unscathed. It had been a miracle, and Hawke did not have many of those. It couldn't be wise to press his luck a second time. It couldn't...

Fenris's arms snuck up around Hawke's back slowly, hands resting between his shoulderblades. His shoulders heaving with an almighty sigh before he slumped over, tension giving way into exhaustion as the small body leaned against Hawke's larger one. "You cannot ask me to stay behind."

"I don't want to."

"Then, don't."

Hawke laughed wryly. "As if it's that simple."

Fenris pulled away, stretched up to press his lips against Hawke's. "It is."

Hawke groaned, sliding his hand up beneath the messy braid at the back of Fenris's hair, tangling his fingers into it. He pulled him in for another kiss, crushing their lips together, a stark contrast to Fenris's gentle peck because he _needed_ this, he needed _him_ , oh, _Maker_ , he couldn't do this, he couldn't put him in danger, and he couldn't leave him. Fenris's skin beneath him, deep voice rumbling out his name in the throes of ecstasy or idle conversation, hot breath against his lips, against the nape of his neck as they slept, throwing his arms around him during breakfast, holding onto him through the nightmares and the daydreams.

Maker, he _needed_.

"Fenris." He shoved his hand against the elf's shoulder, feeling the exhale of breath as he pushed Fenris back against their bedroom wall. "Fenris." Sliding his hands under the collar of Fenris's too-low shirt, pushing it aside to roam the expanse of smooth skin on his shoulders. He kissed him hard, deep, injecting the kiss with every emotion he had, what he needed, slipping his knee between Fenris's thighs to rub at him through his breeches. "Fenris."

Fenris kissed him back with as much fervor, but turned away too quickly. Hawke's lips were chilled, bereft, leaving him to latch onto something else like the marked skin on his neck, sucking at the lyrium swirls and lines, intricate patterns he had traced with his fingers and tongue and memorized with his mind.

"Hawke..."

His voice, his touch. He'd had years of this, years and _years_ and it was never going to be enough. He would never have enough days waking up next to the man held beneath his fingers and even the mere thought of losing that was enough to drive him to hysterics if he let himself go enough. He had to hold himself together. Or allow Fenris to hold him together, like this, in each other's arms.

" _Garrett_."

Hawke stopped. Fingers tenuous on Fenris's body. Lips still pressed against his neck. He had to resist the urge to kiss him again, distract him from this, but - no. Fenris would not allow himself to be distracted. Not now. Not with the impending separation weighing on their minds and suddenly, Hawke was _so_ _tired_.

His forehead landed against Fenris's collarbone. This time, Fenris held him up instead of simply holding him. And even when they folded to the floor, Fenris was still holding him, holding his head tucked against his chest, fingers knitted into his hair, stroking absent patterns against his back.

"I cannot lose you," he managed eventually. When he was certain that his voice wouldn't break.

"That is why we're going together," Fenris said patiently.

"But-"

"I'm not losing you, either," Fenris interrupted. "We have reached a stalemate, it seems."

Hawke barked a laugh, pulling himself away from the elf. "Yes, so it seems."

"Either we do not go, or we go together."

He was so calm. So calm as though it were a simple decision. Maybe he had been following him for the past ten years, through Kirkwall, away from Kirkwall, in and out of Kirkwall as their life took them from place to place now, but this? This was more than going after a band of slavers, and Corypheus had been enough trouble the first time, nevermind the second. And the Venatori that Varric had only mentioned in passing, and the red lyrium growing from nowhere, and-

"Wherever you go, I will follow," Fenris said, _promised_ , and Hawke knew. Knew it intimately, knew that if he went without Fenris _agreeing to it_ (which wasn't happening), Fenris would follow him. Fenris would be alone in battle, and Hawke couldn't keep an eye on him. Couldn't protect him. And if Fenris died trying to follow him into battle...

It was so frustrating. He couldn't fault him because, deep down? Everyone knew Hawke would do the same exact thing if Fenris took off on his own; he had, once, on one particularly dangerous group of slavers. Fenris hadn't been in any danger by the time Hawke had showed up, but he had dragged him back, all the same, even if Fenris had protested along the way. It was one time Hawke had been right and truly angry. So, it wasn't fair for him to think he could go it alone, either, and still?

He breathed in slowly and held it. Counting in his head. One, two, three. Steeling himself for what he was entertaining, allowing. Blew the breath out through his teeth and looked back at Fenris. "Fine. But no being reckless for me," he ordered. "No matter the situation, promise me, Fenris."

Fenris smiled. Smirked, really. Traced his fingers up Hawke's shoulder and neck to curve around his jawline. "Reckless," he said, as though the word were foreign on his tongue. "I think you're mistaking me for you."

Hawke rolled his eyes. "I am not reckless."

Fenris raised a brow. "Need I remind you what happened last week at the tavern?"

"That wasn't recklessness! I was just drunk."

"Completely different things. Right." Fenris patted Hawke's cheek and pushed himself to his feet, holding his hand to Hawke. "Do you want to write a letter back to Varric, or should I?"

"I will... Your penmanship is hideous."

Fenris smacked at the back of Hawke's head before he could duck out of the way. "I learned that from the one who taught me."

"That is so not fair." It wasn't fair, but it wasn't unfair, it was nothing and everything as they fell back into casual conversation, absent-minded things that Hawke could grasp onto before they started out on this journey that would affect both of them all over again. He could hang onto these moments of peace before they were thrown back into the kind of lifestyle that Hawke had hoped to avoid after Kirkwall. For these moments, he and Fenris were still safe, tucked away from the dangers of the world, and Hawke could pretend that nothing would touch them again.

Just a few moments was better than nothing at all.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Image text:
> 
> [Varric's letter]
> 
>   _Hawke,_
> 
>   _I know, I know. Long time no write. It's been... busy. Actually, I'm just gonna jump into this. Remember Corypheus? Crazy, powerful, definitely dead? Of course you do. Well, it turns out he isn't dead, and he's responsible for the Breach in the sky. I didn't want to bring you in if we could help it, but I think... well, I thought you'd want to be in on this, this time._
> 
>  
> 
> _Come to Skyhold. This is a more face-to-face conversation, anyway. I know at least one person who won't be happy to find out that I knew where you were this whole time, but the Inquisition's my problem... Shit, Hawke, it's never easy for us, is it? Let me know what you think. We could... we could just really use you right now._
> 
>  
> 
> _Varric_
> 
>  
> 
>   _PS - tell Broody hi. And that I'm sorry about this, too._
> 
>  
> 
>    
> Parchment stock photo credit @krisseymage  
>  **Illustration found here, applicable to this chapter![Tumblr link.](http://yumikoyuki.tumblr.com/post/155740162389/a-commission-for-cumberbatchcritter-it-has-been%0A)**


	2. Chapter One

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Straight to Skyhold - with detours, of course.

"Have you heard from Stroud recently?"

"No, not lately."

Fenris hummed instead of replying, taking Hawke's hand as he turned to help him over the boulders.

"But this being Corypheus might explain a few things," Hawke continued, taking the pack from Fenris and hauling it onto his back. "And overlooking the giant hole in the sky, this is bad for the Wardens, any way you look at it."

Fenris jumped down next to him, a flutter of snow kicking up from his bare heels. "None of it is good."

"I'm not sure any of it ever is, with us."

His travel companion only grunted in response. They'd been on the road for three days now. Hawke wouldn't pretend that he was eager to get to Skyhold for more reasons than just the obvious. The obvious being, Fenris would be safe there. But otherwise: he needed to know about Corypheus, he wanted to get a drink with Varric, and he _was_ a tiny bit curious to see Skyhold and meet the Dalish elf that had been cursed (blessed?) with the power to close the rifts in the sky.

"Once we get over this terrain, we should be able to get a mount. Ease some of the passage there," Hawke said. "I hope Varric got the bird. I told him where we were, so they should be expecting us."

Fenris was fixed into nonverbal communication, only nodding slightly.

Hawke went on unbothered. "It'll be interesting to meet the Inquisition. Varric said they had a good shot at fixing this mess. Or helping to fix it, anyway..." He rubbed the crease in his forehead, the frown coming unbidden as the flittering thought of their former friend drifted into his mind. "Anders..."

"Hawke."

"Yeah, I know, shitty topic-"

"Hawke."

Hawke looked over. Fenris was gone from his side, having stopped a few paces back. Hawke turned, about to open his mouth when Fenris's hand flew up, one gloved finger lifting for quiet.

Instantly on high alert, the near imperceptible zing of magic pulsing to his fingertips, ready to burst forth.

Fenris unsheathed the Blade of Mercy just before the men attacked.

Their packs crashed to the ground, spells flying in their place. It wasn't a surprise. Honestly, Hawke was shocked that they hadn't ran across bandits before this, but it _was_ cold and snowy; maybe they were all frozen solid somewhere. Evidently not. Poor luck. Hawke shivered as ice burst forth from his fingers, spraying in a wide half-circle to freeze the man charging him, shivering as Fenris vanished from view on the other side of the rocks. He spun the staff from his back, crushing it into the freezing bandit, enough force behind the motion to shatter the man into a spray of ice and blood.

That was one down. "Fenris!" Hawke tightened his hold on the staff, crashing across the snow and ice to join up with Fenris. There was another body on the ground, cut with practiced expertise, and Hawke glanced up to see Fenris parrying a blow with the last of the men. The man was matching Fenris's strength blow for blow, and for a moment while Hawke stood on the snow bank, he could envision the bad end to this fight: Fenris having a lapse in concentration, worried for Hawke or distracted by his presence nearby, the attacker's blade cutting through Fenris's defenses, shoving a practiced blade through the armor beneath Fenris's winter wear, and then- and then-

The smell of burning flesh, sizzling hair burned into his nostrils. He blinked back into reality, watching the man Fenris had been fighting collapse to the ground, body smoking from the jolt of lightning that had just cracked through the man's body.

Fenris stared at him from across their distance.

Hawke didn't even remember casting the spell.

Fenris lowered the blade and Hawke huffed a laugh, sliding his staff back into place. "Well," he said, shoving through the snow to meet with Fenris, "that was a distraction."

"I can handle myself." Fenris was blunt.

Hawke shrugged a little, watching the elf sheath the blade. "Instinct, I guess."

"I can handle _myself_ ," Fenris repeated, stalking past him.

"Aw, Fen, don't be upset that I stole a kill from you." Hawke dogged his footsteps again, inspecting the elf for any sort of injury he may have sustained. "We'll have plenty of time to even up the score."

" _That_ ," Fenris said. "You do not put yourself in danger for me. We discussed this before."

"I thought we discussed _you_ not putting yourself in danger," Hawke joked. It wasn't funny. He couldn't help it.

"Everything goes both ways. You taught me that." Fenris stooped to inspect one of the bodies.

Hawke sighed. "It was instinct," he said. "I didn't even think. You could have been in danger."

"I was fine," Fenris stressed. "This is a long journey, Hawke." Apparently finding nothing, he straightened, and began to collect their things. "I welcome your help, but I am not made of-"

"Not made of glass, I know." Hawke gave him a lopsided smile. "You tell me all the time."

Fenris nodded, and held the pack out to Hawke.

Hawke paused for a moment before taking it, letting his knuckles bump up against Fenris's hand if only for that split second. "I love you."

Fenris's response was usual; an unemotional noise that was only half muffled in the back of his throat. "Romantic as ever, Hawke. You're covered in blood."

"So are you," Hawke pointed out, flinging the pack around his shoulder and grabbing at Fenris's hand.

Fenris sighed, the gentle flutter of nostrils huffing hair out of his face. He did not pull away. "I am yours, as usual."

A mock gasp. " _Really_? Truly, Fenris? I can't believe how lucky I am!"

Hawke could practically hear Fenris's amused eye roll.

(He was, though, somehow lucky in all of his misfortune.)

 

 

"Let's camp."

"F-Fine." Fenris said it like he was bothered, annoyed, even, but the stutter in his words relayed how cold he was feeling, and Hawke had noticed the elf started to shiver in earnest not long ago. Fenris could have a high tolerance to the weather, or at least, he could pretend and would never complain outright, but Hawke had to step in sometime.

"You should have worn the shoes," he commented, dropping their things in the least snowy patch of ground that there was.

"I don't like the shoes."

"I know you don't like the shoes, but your feet would thank you for them. Like now. When we're in the _snow_."

"I'm not c-cold." The scowl that flickered onto Fenris's face was priceless. "It is nothing I cannot handle."

"I didn't say you couldn't. Let's get this set up and I'll warm you up," Hawke said, slinging his arm around Fenris's neck.

A long-suffering sigh was the immediate response, and Fenris shrugged out of Hawke's reach. " _After_ ," he repeated.

"You're lucky you have a boyfriend with so much body heat."

"Or I could just b-build a fire."

"Ouch." Hawke reached out to flick the tip of Fenris's ear.

"That is not going to work. They're numb."

"Hey, you can't feel your ears? At all?" The lack of a jerk forward from the touch was answer enough. Fenris's ears were sensitive, to say the least. Hawke unwound the length of fabric from around his neck and leaned forward, wrapping the scarf around Fenris's head.

"Hawke-"

Hawke pressed his hands over the scarf, over Fenris's ears. "You could have told me."

"It's not a problem."

"Tell me that when your ears fall right off." Hawke relinquished his grip and stepped forward to help. The sooner they did get that fire built, the better. They needed suitable kindling, but he, at least, had the actual fire part down pat.

"They won't fall off."

"It would be really disappointing if they did."

Fenris did the little half smile Hawke maybe not so secretly loved. "Maker forbid you don't have something to s-sneak up behind me and _blow on_. Or suck on." He seemed to contemplate for a moment, then added "Or bite".

"There are different things that I can suc-" Fenris's arm slapped against his chest, knocking the breath out of him.

"No." The elf stepped away, brushing his gloves off. "I will find firewood. Finish that."

Pouting was completely in his arsenal, but Hawke did not as he continued to work. He only grinned and watched Fenris from the corner of his eye, and relaxed a little when they had a fire going. It was a little dangerous, but it was too cold. They slept in shifts, anyway. That was also too dangerous, sleeping at the same time. They were laden down with cloaks and furs and blankets, but if they both fell asleep and they were found? They didn't have heavy armor on. Or what if the cold dragged both of them into sleep and they didn't wake up?

"Alright, come on." Hawke held out his arms to a broody looking Fenris as he sat down next to the fire, pulling at the blankets. "Come over."

Fenris acquiesced, stormy look nonwithstanding, and folded himself into the embrace of Hawke's arms to rest his head against the mage's chest. "I will never enjoy this weather."

Hawke tugged the blanket around them. "I thought you told me you thought the snow was romantic?"

A quiet huff came from the elf, felt rather than heard. "Fasta vass, you never let me forget."

"It's not a bad thing." Hawke rest his head on top of Fenris's head. "Still remember when you said that."

"Hawke."

"Standing at the window, naked as the day you were born."

"Hawke," Fenris groaned.

"The firelight casting all these shadows along the room, windows fogged up except for where you'd wiped it away to look outside. You looked like an angel. An elven angel. I thought I was still dreaming."

"Remind me to never spout _poetry_ after sex," Fenris spat.

"I'll remind you _to_ ," Hawke retorted, tightening his grip around him. "You were happy, I was happy. It was romantic. I like romantic."

"You like romance serials," Fenris murmured.

"Oh, _Swords & Shields_. I'm going to have to _beg_ Varric for the next chapter, it was just getting so good," Hawke lamented.

"Ridiculous."

"Why do you read it when you think I'm still asleep in the morning, then?" Again Hawke felt rather than heard, the little gasp as Fenris squirmed in his arms. "Come on, Fen, you can read my smutty books any time, you know that."

"I don't- I mean, I don't _need_ -"

"No, you don't _need_ romance novels, nobody does, but fantasies are _good_. And the results..." The remaining armor he hadn't taken off yet made it difficult but it was worth a smile when he could slip his knee between Fenris's thighs _just_ enough to earn another gasp. "I can think of a way to get warm. By overexerting ourselves."

" _Venhedis_ ," Fenris swore. "Is this always your solution?"

"I don't know, you tell me."

Fenris swore again, fingers sinking into the thick fur cowl Hawke was wearing.

"Do you want me to stop?"

"No, I don't want you to stop!" Fenris hissed.

"So snappy." Hawke leaned over, drawing Fenris into a kiss that chased the chill from his breath. "Demanding."

Fenris grabbed at Hawke's face between his hands, shoving him back against the rocks. He said nothing, instead twisting into a position better suited for grinding against Hawke's thigh.

" _So_ demanding," Hawke muttered, turning his head to allow Fenris to descend on his neck, furs and scarves tugged out of the way with quick, jerky movements that rivaled Hawke wiggling his hand between them to get to the front of the elf's breeches. "What do you... want, Fenris? My mouth, or what?"

Fenris bit down on his collarbone, sucking the skin between his lips before pulling away to say "Too cold. Just this".

"Okay," Hawke said simply.

The years had not been kind, particularly, but they had been instructive. Back in Kirkwall, their love-making had been difficult, agonizing, in ways Hawke hadn't noticed immediately, hadn't seen. Since they had left, in the years that they had lived together, fought together, mourned together, _been together_... Fenris was more confident, less wary, more _trusting_. He told Hawke what he wanted, what he didn't. Pushed him back against the rocks and rubbed himself off against his thigh, evidently.

Hawke didn't notice he was laughing until Fenris had pulled away enough to give him a strange look. "Am I amusing you?"

Hawke shook his head. "I'm just really happy, actually."

Fenris tilted his head. Smiled. That beautiful, blinding smile. Maker help him, Fenris was beautiful. "That's good."

"Yeah." _Best to savor it now_. He returned to palming the front of Fenris's too tight pants, earning him delicious breaths and sounds and a quaking elf in his arms after only a few glorious moments. And he savored it as the rush of heat cascaded through his own body, and he savored it as he tucked Fenris flat against his chest and held him close, and he savored it as Fenris mumbled weary words against his neck into his winter wear.

"... adore you, Hawke."

"Love you, too, Fen."

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Updates will now be Tuesdays and Fridays, if I can remember that for myself. Thank you for your interest! :o Hope you like it so far.


	3. Chapter Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Welcome to Skyhold.

"Well, I would have thought this would have gone easier."

Fenris stood, sulking in his cloak, glaring at Hawke as the Inquisition's forces gave them the once over.

"I guess they aren't leaving anything to chance. Just don't start glowing, okay?" Hawke grinned.

"It's not _funny_ , Hawke."

"I don't know. It really- _wo_ ah, I don't think you can touch me there unless we've talked about it beforehand!" he complained towards the soldier searching him.

Fenris positively _glowered_.

"Hey, Hawke!"

There was a familiar voice. For a moment, he was back in Kirkwall, with all of its flaws and imperfections, and the bustle of the Hanged Man was crowded and loud around him, and there was Varric, in the midst of it all, prompting games of Wicked Grace and drinks and Merrill was lamenting losing to Isabela, Anders was nursing a pint and muttering about mage rights, Aveline calling for them to settle down while Fenris sat side-by-side with Hawke, thighs touching beneath the table even before they were even together.

"I know Broody's scary, but they're with me!" Varric called, shattering the illusion and bringing Hawke crashing back into Skyhold. "You can let them in."

Fenris jerked forward, tugging his hood further around his ears.

Hawke reached over to grab his hand, hoping to ease away some of the discomfort. He teased, but it was one of those things Fenris had never gotten used to. He still didn't like being touched, with the exception of the people he knew or cared for. Hawke could barely resist the urge to lean over to kiss him, just to make him smile, but there was fabric in his face and people were eyeing them, and he settled with rubbing his thumb against his hand instead. Less useful when they were wearing gloves, but Fenris squeezed at his fingertips in return anyway.

"Long time no see," Varric said, looking between them. "Although you didn't say in your letter that you were bringing Broody."

"You didn't tell him?"

"I must have left it out."

"You-"

Hawke clapped his hand over Fenris's mouth. He was innocent, no one would prove otherwise.

Varric rolled his eyes. "Well, it's good to see you two again, at any rate. I can't say anyone's going to be happy to see you, well, they won't be happy with _me_ that I knew how to get ahold of you, anyway. And Broody's got to be on his best behavior with some of our... more colorful companions," he said, looking at Fenris.

Fenris pushed away Hawke's hand. "What does that mean," he asked, monotone.

"You'll find out. No hands through the chest." Varric sighed and threw his own hands up. "Okay, let's get a drink. The tavern's completely different from the Hanged Man, but it all just about tastes the same. The place is still a mess, but I got a room you can stay in. The Inquisitor's gone out, to smooth something over in Redcliffe, I think, so I think you're going to have to wait a day or two to meet him. They should be back soon."

"We could do with some actual sleep in an actual bed," Hawke said, looking around Skyhold. Tents, people rushing to and fro, the injured on beds of blankets and sheets on the ground. "How many people... Haven?"

"I don't know. Too many. I tried not to hear the numbers, but... some of it slipped through." Varric sighed. "Too many men, shit, Hawke, kids, even, laying down their lives for the Inquisition. They'd all do the same now, _especially_ now. Electing a leader to this group kind of rallied them."

"The Dalish elf?" Fenris asked.

Varric nodded. "Yeah. From Clan Lavellan. We're mostly just calling him ‘Inquisitor’ now."

"I can't imagine that happened without disagreement."

"Oh, there was some upset over it, sure. But he's the only one who can close the rifts, and they've seen him do it. He's our only hope. We all know that."

Fenris hummed. "People will follow whomever if they feel they have no other choice."

"It's a _good_ thing," Hawke interrupted. "That they're following a Dalish elf. It's good."

"I didn't say it was a bad thing."

"How is domestic bliss going with you two, then?" Varric asked, with the familiar twinkle in his eyes. Hawke was suddenly grateful that Varric was no longer writing books about him. As much as he had enjoyed them... well, it was nice to have some time without prying eyes.

"He is as you'd expect," Fenris said smoothly.

"I can imagine. I don't envy you, Broody."

"Hey! I am _right here_!"

"No offense, Hawke, you know we love you." Varric pulled open the door to a stone-walled building, the gentle notes of music and chatter drifting out. "Watch your step, it's still a work in progress."

The tavern was different to the Hanged Man. It was under renovation - or construction, Hawke couldn't quite tell - but it was still brighter, warmer, more cheerful. Not that they hadn't had their choices in Kirkwall, it was just... they had always ended up at the Hanged Man. And the other taverns had been nice, too, no doubt, just like this tavern was probably really nice, too, but...

It was just different from home. He missed Kirkwall.

Varric's laugh brought him back to reality. "I just watched your face fall. I know, it's not Kirkwall. We're gonna get back there, but Wicked Grace plays here just as well."

"Of course." He hoped his smile wasn't too polished. He was suddenly homesick; something he hadn't expected coming to Skyhold. It was nothing like Kirkwall (and Kirkwall wasn't even his _real_ home) and yet...

"Dump your shit somewhere, I'll get us some drinks."

"Sounds great."

Fenris unwound the scarf from his face, dropping it onto the table. He plucked at his gloves, leaning against the table to Hawke. "Are you okay?"

Hawke smiled, throwing his cloaks onto the chair. "Of course."

"You did have a strange look."

"Stranger than usual?" he joked.

Fenris shook his head. "You look conflicted. Contemplative, perhaps."

"I was just thinking... it really isn't like Kirkwall." Hawke cast his gaze around the tavern, settling on the fire and the bard and the notes tacked to the beams and the people sleeping on the tabletops. "It's nice, but it's almost _too_ nice."

"I know what you mean."

"You complained about the Hanged Man all the time!" Hawke accused, nudging the elf's arm.

"It _was_ disgusting. But it grew on you. Like mold."

"Hah! And the company, right?" he needled, leaning closer.

"I am not kissing you right now, Hawke."

Hawke went to ruffle his hair just as Fenris leaned away.

"... It's dark. So dark. But the glow from my hands illuminates what I cannot usually see, it hurts, each touch a thousand daggers into my stomach, my head, my hands, my _heart_. Don't touch me but don't touch them; I'll do anything to make sure that they're safe even though she's not safe now, betrayed, more pain into my chest, why, why does it hurt when I haven't seen them, why do I need to remember when things are okay now, he is with me but he cannot help me, cannot soothe the pain, hurts to think, hurts to touch."

Fenris's head snapped up _so_ fast. Hawke looked up, too, gaze settling on the person with the blonde hair and the alarmingly large hat. He could feel the tension radiating from Fenris just after the few short sentences, sentences that were too intimately familiar to Fenris's life - was this someone that Fenris knew?

"Oh, great. I see you've met Cole." Varric put down their drinks. "Look, kid, now's not really the time, okay?"

"But he's _hurt_." Blue eyes peered through wiry blonde strands beneath the brim of the hat. "He's been hurt. They're _both_ hurting."

"Yeah, kid, we know. Some hurt can't be helped so easily. Why don't you go check up on the rest of the town a bit, okay? There's some people down by the front that might need your help."

Cole nodded. "Okay, Varric. Should I make them forget?" He held out his hand, and Hawke tensed up, fingers clutching at Fenris's arm. _Forget-_

"No! It'll be easier to explain this way. I guess," Varric muttered.

Fenris was practically _vibrating_ as Hawke hung onto his arm, now to prevent him from moving, from chasing after the blonde. "Who was that."

"Did you know him?"

"No!"

"That's Cole. He's one of our... friends, yeah." Varric slid into the chair opposite, taking a draw off the pint. "... He's a spirit."

"What?"

"A _demon_."

"No," Varric said. "It's not exactly like that. Our resident expert on the weird shit, Solas, he said Cole hasn't... ah, how do I put this? He isn't possessing anything. He is in his natural form."

"Last time I checked, a demon's natural form was enough to give you nightmares for at least a week," Hawke said.

"I know, it's weird. We don't really understand it ourselves... but he wants to help. He warned us at Haven. He doesn't cause any harm."

" _Fasta vass_. It is always the same."

Varric shook his head. "It's not, though. It's not like with Blondie or Daisy... I don't know. We're keeping an eye on him, but the Inquisitor said he's keeping him around for now. I think he's a good kid. Just an instinct, I suppose, but..." He shrugged slightly.

Hawke sighed, grabbing for his ale. "The usual band of misfits. Right. Spirits, demons, Dalish, dwarves - nothing out of the ordinary."

"Don't forget the others elves, the Qunari, the Grey Warden, the Seeker, and the mages," Varric said seriously.

"Amazing," Fenris growled, burying his nose into his drink.

Hawke secretly agreed, but a merry band of misfits had gotten them through a Qunari uprising before, of all the things that had happened in Kirkwall. Of course, the same merry band of misfits - just _one_ person, actually - was the whole reason that the mage uprising had begun, so it was a double-edged sword. He hoped, for the Inquisitor's sake, that it didn't go the way that _his_ group had gone.

"Okay, Varric, what's all this about old Corypheus?"

"Right... straight to business. You're gonna need more to drink than that by the time we get through this." He gestured to their drinks, and Hawke grinned ruefully, reaching for his coin purse.

 

 

"Trouble is never far from us, it seems," Fenris remarked, folding his cloak onto the singular chair in the room.

What an understatement. "No rest for the stunningly beautiful and ridiculously smart." He threw his cloak against the back of the chair and tried to kick his shoes off.

"I'm not sure that's how that saying goes."

Hawke shrugged. There were more important things to talk about. Things that were not Corypheus. Corypheus was important, was the reason that they were here, but Hawke... Hawke was more than a little frightened that if he put all his mindset into Corypheus and the Grey Wardens, he'd lose track of the little things. The clear, brisk mountain air. The singing of songbirds fluttering through Skyhold. The press of Fenris's shoulder against his as they walked. Just like the rest of the world, those things were things he desperately needed to protect.

And speaking of protect. "Are you okay, by the way?" He braced his shoulder against the wall to pull off his thick, woolen stockings. "After our spirit companion who apparently can help our hurt by crawling into our minds..."

Fenris shrugged delicate shoulders, fingers smoothing over the folds in Hawke's cloak as he finished folding it. "I'm fine."

Hawke stripped free of his shirts. It was surprisingly warm in their room, tattered and broken though it were. "I'm sorry." Fenris liked having people in his head just about as much as Hawke did. Which meant not at all. But it was still different with Fenris, it was always going to be different with Fenris, given who he was, where he had come from. What he had built from that.

"Pay it no mind, Hawke."

"I mean it." Hawke stepped out of his breeches, kicking them aside. "You'll tell me, right? If you're in pain. Physical and emotional and psychological-" He broke off as he heard the ever-so-long-suffering sigh from the elf.

"You know my stance on the matter." Fenris stooped, sweeping the clothing from the floor. "How many times must we discuss it?"

"As many as it takes," Hawke said resolutely. "I want to ease your pain, Fenris. Not in some spirity way. But in a _me_ way."

There was a small smile, tucked away in the slightest twitch of Fenris's lips as he set folded pants and shirts onto the chair. "In a Hawke way. Sounds intriguing."

Hawke huffed, flopping face first onto the bed. The small cloud of dust made his nose itch. He held it in to rasp out, instead, "you _know_ what I _mean_ ".

There was no response immediately forthcoming, save the rustle of fabric as Fenris finished undressing. Then the mattress dipped down next to Hawke's right hip, and Fenris pressed a kiss against the back of Hawke's hair. "You have eased my pain considerably, Hawke."

Hawke smiled into the blankets. He rolled over to face Fenris, holding out his arms. Fenris motioned for him to lay proper at the head of the bed, which Hawke obliged, and then the elf nestled in between his arms. "Is meeting me still the best thing that has happened to you?" he asked.

"Must I have to continue to stroke your ego?"

" _Fine_." Hawke stuck out his tongue, rather childish a move though it were. Small things. The glimmer of Fenris's silky hair splayed against the pillow like a halo. The feel of Fenris's pulse beating a reassuring pulse beneath his fingers. "There are other things you can stroke." It was lacking conviction; he was tired from travel and this was their first night in a proper bed in days. The mood was also somewhat... how to put it when there was a looming threat of world damnation they'd just been explained to in full not one hour ago... _not quite right_.

"Someone may cut that tongue out of your month one day when you aren't looking."

Hawke grinned, but said nothing. They didn't need the conversation, and Fenris especially needed the sleep. So did he, really, but he'd sleep... _when he was dead._ Later. He'd worry about him later. Yeah. In the meantime, he held Fenris close to his chest and listened to the sounds of the stronghold of the Inquisition outside their room, and smiled when Fenris leaned his forehead against his and moved in closer. Conversation was nice, but after all these years, Fenris and Hawke did not need it. Not really.

Against his better efforts, he must have been dozing when Fenris spoke again, because he only heard half of the sentence and it still jarred him back into reality with that sickening swoop in his stomach, the one he was trying to avoid with quick comments and casual touches.

"... think there is a way to kill Corypheus?"

Fenris was thinking about it, too. Of course Fenris was thinking about it, too. _I don't know_. Corypheus had been shut away, but he hadn't been killed, and maybe that was because someone had known something more, back then. And he had stumbled right along and let the old magister right back out, and then had fallen directly into the same trap: he had tried (and thought he prevailed) to kill Corypheus, and he had left it at that. But despite that? Corypheus wasn't dead. Corypheus hadn't been killed in the past. He hadn't been killed in Hawke's endeavors, and could he be killed some time in the immediate future?

_I don't know_.

Hawke's grip seized around the small elf in his arms, and he pretended he did not notice when Fenris squirmed a little and held on just as tenuously.

_I don't know, Fenris._

"Of course," he said, and kissed at the tip of Fenris's nose.

Fenris grumbled a complaint and ducked his head and fell back into silence, eventually settling into a breathing pattern that spoke of comfortable sleep.

"... Of course," Hawke muttered.

If he didn't believe it, nobody would.

 


	4. Chapter Three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Conversations on the battlements.

It was hardly fair, that he had failed to put a lid on one of his problems, and now, someone completely innocent had been thrust into the same sort of lifestyle that Hawke had been so quick - _desperate_ , even - to try and escape from following Kirkwall. It shouldn't have been a surprise. Because when did anything he did ever end up right? He had tried to protect his family, and Bethany had been killed right in front of his eyes. Carver had collapsed from the Blight's touch, and only Anders's quick thinking meant that his brother was still alive at this moment. His mother had been _sewed together_ with numerous other women, a mage playing with necromancy, and she had died _in_ his arms. He had tried to protect his city, and it had burned through a Qunari uprising, and it burned went the mages and the templars broke into a full scale war. The last thing he remembered? Blood staining the ground, screams, abominations prowling the streets, and _you couldn't stop to help them because you caused it_. (And so what if he hadn't know about Anders's plan? He had _helped_ , he had HELPED! He had _killed_ those people just as much as Anders or Justice had!) Everything he had ever done in the past ten and some years? Where was the good in it? One step forward, two steps back! Hawke had a sense of humor - he had to - but even that didn't help when you were cursed with as much colossal bad luck as he had.

"You're thinking again."

Hawke turned to Fenris, watching the long, silver hair blow in the wind buffeting the fortress. The green eyes that were looking out over Skyhold, sleeves shoved up to elbows that leaned against the battlements.

Well, maybe everything in the past ten years hadn't been for nothing.

"None of us could have known," Fenris said shortly. He tucked his hair behind an ear, and rested his palms on the stone.

"Known about what, exactly?"

"That Corypheus was not dead."

"You don't know that was what I was thinking about."

"Yes, I do."

_Okay, so you do._ "Sealed away, I don't know. We should have guessed there was more to it." He shrugged.

"When we left, he was dead. _You_ killed him," Fenris said. "There was nothing more-"

"But what if there _was_?" Hawke interrupted. Fenris turned to look at him, but Hawke plowed on. "We should have _known_ Corypheus was there for a reason, we should have known we weren't going to be able to stop him."

"We did more than enough."

" _More_ than enough?"

"It wasn't our cross to bear to begin with. We did more than enough," Fenris repeated.

"Are you serious? We did more than enough, but Corypheus is out blowing holes in the fucking sky," Hawke retorted, jabbing his finger towards the Breach, "and that's perfectly acceptable?"

"I didn't say it was acceptable."

Some retort was on the tip of his tongue, ready to be hurled forth, but it died between his teeth and the roof of his mouth. He couldn't fight with Fenris, not now. He was never particularly good at it, anyway. Their arguments over the years hadn't been numerous, and even if they had been something to behold, Hawke wasn't one for staying mad. _"I'd rather love than fight." I've been fighting my whole life._ He'd said that to Fenris, once. Well, the first part. He hadn't included the second half out loud.

Hawke sighed, breath hissing through clenched teeth. "Sorry."

"Everything doesn't have to be your problem, Hawke," Fenris replied. "You are allowed to say ‘no’." He side-eyed him. "Isn't that what you've told me?"

"It's a little different." Hawke straightened up. "I can't just... _ignore_ that sense of responsibility. It could end up killing me, and here I am, anyway. There's a different life out there, but I can't walk away from this one. I'm a glutton for punishment!"

"We are _not_ going to die," Fenris replied vehemently, and then went on to say "but I understand the feeling. Being a part of something. Being able to leave, but never doing it. _Chains_ ," he said bitterly, and flexed his fingers.

Hawke didn't know if it was reflex, or not, but still he reached over to clasp Fenris's hand beneath his. "Hard to throw those off. If only the past could stay in the past."

"They say our past shapes our future," the elf remarked.

"I believe it. Sort of, I suppose. If I could change things..." _If I could change things, I would._ But that sounded ungrateful, rude to say to the one person who was still - miraculously - with him. He wouldn't change this with Fenris, no. But if he could save Bethany? Stop Carver from going into the Deep Roads with him, keep a closer eye on his mother? Not trust Anders so blindly? Maybe stop the Qunari uprising? Pay more attention to _anything_ , _everything_? Live without regrets? Ha! Maybe once upon a time.

"Is that the Inquisitor?"

Hawke followed Fenris's gaze down into the courtyard at the group entering Skyhold. They seemed to raise more of a ruckus than anybody else, and while Hawke couldn't see if there were vallaslin or even pointed ears, the silver-haired leader in the group was carrying a staff, flanked by a dark-skinned mage, a Qunari, and a blonde-haired archer.

"Maybe. They seem important."

Fenris made a noise as the mage in the group broke away. The presumed Inquisitor shared a glance with the other two, and then followed after. "I do not understand how everyone can be so at ease when they are surrounded by mages."

"I'm not sure everyone is," Hawke said, tracking the Inquisitor's progress with his eyes. Varric would come find him when it was time to meet the leader. "Apostate is a loose term now, technically, but I can't imagine everyone here is happy about it."

"It is a bomb," Fenris muttered, "waiting to explode."

"Maybe," Hawke allowed. He would always be with the mages, he would always be sympathetic to the mage plight. But those last few years in Kirkwall, he had seen how horrible some of those mages could be. He still held fast and firm in his belief: not all mages, but he had learned that it was not always that simple. He wanted freedom, but even what the apostates had now wasn't perfect. He had seen too much, and they didn't need another Anders. "I hope not, though."

Fenris's shoulders lifted in a delicate shrug before he straightened. "We should be on our way soon, if that truly is the Inquisitor. Finally."

"We haven't even been here two whole days," Hawke laughed. "Don't like it?"

His elven lover looked a little startled at the question, head cocking in a way reminscent of Dog. "No," Fenris said slowly. "I do like it here. Very much, in fact. But magic is used too freely, and even amongst this company, I still remain to be more conspicuous than the rest of them. One of their companions, an elf, he passed by me last night and tried to inquire about these." He waved his hand towards his markings. "He was... almost uncomfortably intent."

"Solas?" Hawke thought. "I think that's his name. Chuckles, right? Bald?"

"Yes."

"Yeah. What did you tell him?"

Fenris smirked. "I told him I would show him what they could do if he did not leave me be. Although I'm not sure if he took my meaning."

Hawke could imagine how that had gone. Fenris, who grumbled at _him_ if he stared at him too long (but it _was_ hard not to!). "I find that if you say something threateningly enough, it tends to come across."

"I know. He let me go," Fenris remarked.

"Smart guy."

"I agree." Fenris lingered in silence for another moment before turning away. "I'm going back to our room. Let me know if the Inquisitor wants to meet."

"Sure. Oh, there's a library upstairs. And downstairs. There's books everywhere, actually, I picked some up, dumped them in our room. Let me know if there's any good ones?"

"Of course."

"I'll come get you if we need you." Hawke pressed a kiss against Fenris's cheek and leaned against the battlements, watching him go.

"Serah Hawke?"

Hawke winced at a familiar voice using his given name; not many people knew him as the Champion of Kirkwall and even fewer seemed to know what he looked like after all these years. Not that he had changed, but the stories had gotten more outlandish. He had fangs and a unibrow in one tale! That had been entertaining! But it had made laying low more easy, which was something he was supposed to be doing here until he met with the Inquisitor. He hadn't expected anybody to really _recognize_ him.

But that voice... it _was_ a little familiar. Hawke glanced over his shoulder with no small amount of trepidation, and _Maker_ , was that Knight-Captain Cullen?

"It _is_ you," Cullen said, standing in the middle of the walkway. "Varric had said... I didn't expect it to be you until Cassandra mentioned that it had better not be."

"Well, good to see I'm welcome," Hawke said. "Good to see you again, Knight-Captain. Still think mages aren't real people?"

Cullen sighed. Hawke could hear it even from their distance. The Captain seemed... different. Tired. He looked like the way that Hawke felt, a little, he supposed. Varric had told him all about what had happened after he had fled Kirkwall. And now Cullen was here, with the Inquisition. The years hadn't been kind to anyone. At least Cullen had stood with him, in the end. Had taken him long enough, Hawke thought, but he had done it. Eventually.

"My judgment of mages was unfair."

" _Really_? I wouldn't have guessed."

"I realized it too late, I know," Cullen said, looking out over Skyhold. "I can't change the way I acted, or didn't act. I'm just trying to do it right this time. I'm not sure I'm managing," he admitted, "but Maker, I'm trying."

Hawke could have continued to prod at him. He had all the ammunition to. But Hawke understood the end-of-the-world weariness all too well. And so, while he didn't expect he would be getting drinks and playing Wicked Grace with the Captain (ha! as if Cullen played Wicked Grace anyway!), he could afford letting him off the hook. "That's all we can do. You've got a good base, a good army, from what I've seen. You have a good chance to fix this."

Cullen shook his head. "The Inquisitor has a good chance to fix it. He is the one who will shape the world from here on, for better or for worse. For better. I think. I pray he does."

"Sometimes it feels like things never change," Hawke said. "I think I felt the same way before the uprising. Hoping I could help the mages, and we blew up the Chantry and started the war instead. Here's hoping the Inquisitor's got his head on better than I did."

"If we don't stop Corypheus..."

"Then there'll be nothing we can do," Hawke interrupted. "We probably won't be alive, let alone worrying about it. We do what we can while we can. Right, Captain?"

Cullen regarded him for a long moment. There was a certain sort of desperation in his eyes that Hawke was absolutely for certain no one else should be seeing, and the only reason he was was because he wasn't part of their immediate group, their Inquisition. "You're right," he breathed, rubbing the back of his neck. "Do what we can while we can and worry about the after when it gets here. Right." He dropped his hand, and it instinctively fell back to rest against his blade. Ever the soldier. He was the best person to lead this army, probably. "Oh, it's Commander now, too," Cullen added. "Not that it... really matters at this point, but..."

"Commander!" Hawke echoed. "Varric hadn't said! Well done! So, you left the templar order, become Commander of the Inquisition, what else? Got someone special now?"

"Uh, _what_?"

"A girlfriend? A boyfriend?"

" _Maker_ , no!" Cullen interrupted. He was turning red. Was he really blushing? The careful considering, prim and proper Commander was actually turning red at the discussion of dating? "Why would you- I just-" He huffed out a breath, turning his face away.

"Don't you want someone to spend the rest of your life with?"

"Y... es." He said it like he was being forced. Like he was swearing against the Maker, going by the uneasiness. "I would... very much like it, one day. But not now. Not with the Inquisition, I'm too busy, we're too busy..." He cleared his throat and glanced at Hawke. "You're still with, um... Fenris, then?"

"No, he just followed me here for the free food and a change of scenery." Cullen frowned, and Hawke decided that he ought to clarify, just in case. "We've been together since we left Kirkwall. Well, not all the time, not _literally_ , we take jobs that lead us different ways sometimes, but we have a home to go back to. Albeit that home changes more often than I'd like," he muttered. "But we're pretty stable, for now. The Conclave and the Breach seems to have everyone's minds on other things. We've even been back to Kirkwall for a time, now and again." Never for long, and never to stay, but they had gotten to meet up with their old friends enough for a drink, keeping an eye on templars to make sure they could make a hasty exit when and if they needed. One day, they'd go back permanently. Just not yet.

"That's good that you're still together. Er, not that you wouldn't be, it's just been... well, after Kirkwall." He waved it off. "Married?"

Now it was Hawke's turn to splutter. Over nothing, over air, over the spit in his mouth. _Oh. Payback._ He coughed. "You're good at payback, aren't you? No, we're, we're not married."

"Oh."

"We're just kind of... going along as we are. It's good. Really good."

Wasn't that he didn't like talking about their relationship. He and Fenris were in the best place that they had been in a long time. It was just. He wasn't going to admit to the Commander how... _often_ the thought of marriage had crossed his mind. It was just... never the right time. Or maybe it was, and he was just ridiculous, but they were in such a _good_ place right now. What if proposing was moving too fast for Fenris, and it set them back? No, Hawke had to... hold himself back a little. He needed things to be sure. He was more than pleased just to _be_ with him. Marrying him would be extra sweet, but maybe one day.

They had all the time in the world, right?

Well, so long as Corypheus didn't kill them or anything.

... Then again, the threat was very real, and what if Corypheus did kill them and Hawke never did get the chance to ask? Those were words gone unspoken, actions never performed if they died before he got the chance. And just the thought of that gave him all sorts of regrets, even if he couldn't regret it once he _was_ dead. Oh, Maker, now he was stressed out over this, _again_.

"Commander!" A scout came marching towards them. "More weapons shipments have arrived, ser."

"Ah, good, I was beginning to wonder. It's good to see you again, Hawke. We never got the chance to say it but... thank you."

Hawke blinked owlishly. "For what?"

"For taking action when we couldn't," Cullen said. "We were blinded by our devotion, our... attachment to the old ways. The way things turned out weren't the best, but you were willing to step up. That is more than enough for gratitude." He nodded and turned after the scout, leaving Hawke standing alone.

"Well." He blinked a few more times and narrowed his eyes at Skyhold. Gratitude. He didn't get many thank-yous, especially not for the events that had taken place in Kirkwall. Most people just associated him with Anders - that apostate was a friend of the _Champion's_?! - and that was enough to chase any good thought away.

It wasn't that he hadn't gotten gratitude before. He had. Just... a lot of it had never been particularly meaningful, or Hawke hadn't felt one way or the other on the cause. But for what had transpired during the beginning of the mage-templar war...

"Huh. Well. _He's_ changed a lot over the years," Hawke murmured and set off for his and Fenris's room.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This almost has 50 kudos already... thank you so much! T_T Still a long way to go, but the boys will meet familiar faces next chapter, at least! Something to keep looking forward to (as well as everything else that is bound to go down, naturally).


	5. Chapter Four

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Meet the Inquisitor.

Hawke could not sleep.

Fenris could, and had been, for the past few hours, having slipped a piece of parchment into his book to mark his place before kissing Hawke and crawling into bed. He was usually early to bed (and not early to rise; the brooding was even stronger in the morning and it made Hawke smile fondly just to think about).

Now, the ribbon was gone from his long hair, the long strands framing Fenris's face, falling into his face, across parted lips. Even as Hawke watched, Fenris stirred just enough to huff his hair from his face, nose crinkling, fingers coming up to swat at it before he dropped back into deeper sleep.

Hawke would have laughed if it wouldn't have bothered his sleeping beauty, if he actually felt _up_ to laughing just then, half exhausted and still wide awake at the same time. Instead, he refrained from stroking at Fenris's hair, held back from leaning over to kiss his eyelids, and let his mind wander.

It had been the Inquisitor that they had saw coming in the gate earlier in the day, but Hawke also had the feeling that something had been going on that they didn't know about, given the body language they'd all been carrying when they'd come in. He wasn't _rushing_ the Inquisitor, really, but... between Corypheus and the Grey Wardens, Hawke wanted to get to Crestwood to check on Stroud.

But if he couldn't do that just then, he just wanted to be doing _something_.

Since he wasn't sleeping, he may as well... whatever. Not lay here and give himself a headache, even as nice as it was watching Fenris sleep. If he wasn't going to sleep, he may as well get up before he did wake Fenris accidentally. Fenris didn't need to be reminded about Hawke's sleep deprivation, not right now.

He redressed lazily, leaving the laces on his shirt undone. Skyhold was colder at night, but the walls of the fortress blocked out the worst of the chill, leaving the air pure and clean and Hawke breathed in it greedily, taking in the sleeping city. In some ways, it reminded him of Kirkwall. In other ways, it did not.

Everyone seemed content here. At ease, but also at arms, ready to jump into a fight at the drop of a hat for their Inquisitor, for their Inquisition. They were united in a common goal. Hawke almost missed the feeling. ... Almost.

This place was really magnificent, though. If Corypheus attacked, no, _when_ Corypheus attacked, the Inquisition would already have the upper hand in the fight if it took place here. It was fortified, you could see miles over the towers and the ramparts. There would be no quick escape if it was needed, true, but after what Varric had told him of what had transpired in Haven, there would be no quick escape necessary when Corypheus attacked again. When Corypheus attacked again, it would be fight or die, and it was that simple.

Of course, Hawke had thought it that simple before, and he had thought he had left Corypheus dead, too. At least his mistake was going to help the Inquisition. Learn from experience and all that.

Putting Corypheus slightly to the side, in the event that another Blight did happen - or could happen, even - if Corypheus succeeded in whatever his plan with the Wardens was, who would stop the Blight from spreading then? It was tied hand-in-hand, but even if they stopped the magister, if there weren't Wardens... The future was even more unpredictable than usual.

There were so many ways for this to go wrong.

When the world was ending, though, everything seemed to go to hell all at once, so maybe if the Inquisitor could fix one thing, the rest would fall in line. Hawke had to hope. They would do what they could and that was the best that they could do.

Speaking of the Inquisitor.

Hawke was rounding the staircase and came to a halt as he walked in on the Inquisitor and one of the companions (the mage from Tevinter, Varric had explained to him when Fenris had gone to the privy, and sue him if he hadn't exactly told him one of their companions _was_ from Tevinter just yet) sitting on the stairsteps together. Too closely, really, thighs touching, fingertips brushing against each other's.

Hawke raised his eyebrows as the Tevinter snatched his hand away from the Inquisitor's like it was a poisonous snake about to bite.

_Well_ then.

He held up his hands. "Don't pull yourself away from your Inquisitor on my account," he said. "Don't worry. Your secret's safe with me." He pressed a finger to his lips and turned before the Tevinter could skulk away into the darkest shadows of Skyhold, which was what he looked like he wanted to do. _Probably_ not out of the closet to the team, then. The Inquisitor, on the other hand, looked unfazed.

Hawke headed back for their quarters before he could walk in on someone else. _Maker_ , he'd just walked in on, what, a midnight rendezvous between the Inquisitor and his Tevinter lover? That almost sounded like something that would have happened to him in Kirkwall. Wait, Anders _had_ walked in that one time when he'd been about ten seconds from blowing Fenris in the estate's entrance once. How could have he forgotten _that_?

He was still grinning as he let himself back into his room; the smile slipped from his face when there was less than three inches between his nose and a blade that Fenris was holding the moment he walked into the room. He went cross-eyed to look at the shining silver, and then at Fenris. "Uh, hello to you, too."

Fenris scowled, dropping his arm. "You left."

"You were asleep when I left," Hawke pointed out, taking the blade and setting it aside with their weapons.

"I woke up. Where were you?"

Hawke gestured towards the outdoors. "Went for a walk. Sorry, I didn't think you'd wake up." He sank back onto the bed and held out his arms. "Forgive me?"

Fenris breathed out, fingers seizing at the hem of the sleep-shirt he was wearing (one of Hawke's old shirts) before joining Hawke on the bed.

"Ah, so the Inquisitor's boyfriend, or lover, or, whatever they are, is the mage, I just walked into them. I feel bad, I freaked him out. I thought he was going to take off running when I stumbled into them."

"Which mage?" Fenris asked, settling into his arms.

"The ‘Vint." He felt Fenris stiffen at the word, and he swore under his breath. "Shit. Varric was trying to keep that a secret, too."

"A magister?"

"No, Varric _assured_ me he isn't. He's just a mage. From Tevinter. Who's got some sort of thing with the Inquisitor."

"Hm." Fenris snuggled in a bit more, although the tension didn't leave his shoulders. "And how long were you planning on keeping that from me?"

"Until we went home?"

" _Hawke_."

"I know, it's stupid, I just thought, you know, you'd be more comfortable working with him if you... didn't know." Wonderful, Hawke; that really does sound stupid. Almost sounded worse than _I didn't know how you would react to being about someone from Tevinter_. Really he hadn't decided that he _wasn't_ going to tell him, he just... hadn't yet. He might have. If the time had been right.

"I may not be fond of Tevinter, but I am not so close-minded to think every person that comes from there is like Danarius," Fenris said. "Not all mages are the same. Not all of _his kind_ are, either. I would imagine," he muttered. "I will keep an eye on him," he said, louder. "I suggest you do the same."

"Don't trust the Inquisition? ‘Vints aside? The whole dagger to the face a couple minutes ago..."

"No," Fenris replied bluntly. "I do not know them. Neither do you. But they have not proven themselves one way or the other. I do not attack unless I am provoked. Usually."

"Only when someone sneaks in and surprises you?" Hawke joked, ruffling the elf's hair.

" _That_ ," Fenris slapped Hawke's hand, "is instinct."

"Oh, of course. You're like a dog. My guard dog."

Fenris's groan was only partially muffled by the fabric of Hawke's shirt. "Go to sleep, Hawke. We must rest before we are to travel to Crestwood, and you need to sleep."

"Yeah."

Fenris shifted, pulled away. And fixed him with a stare before reaching over determinedly, grabbing at Hawke's shirt to pull up and over his head. "Face the other way."

"Huh? I thought we were sleeping."

Fenris pointed to the pillow. "Head here, and give me your back."

Hawke might have complained a little (didn't mind in the slightest, really) and dropped his weary head onto the pillow, the coolness of the sheets licking at his exposed skin. Maker, he was tired. Not even in the mood to do whatever Fenris was-

Fenris wedged in behind him, wrapping his arms around Hawke, chest to back, still wearing that ratty shirt. His fingers swept through Hawke's hair, pushing it behind his ear, and he pressed a kiss to the back of his neck. "Go to sleep," the deep voice commanded.

"... You're spooning me? Really? Fen, you're the smaller one here, this isn't how it's supposed to work, you know."

"You cannot sleep when you are talking." Fenris kept up the motion of stroking his hair softly, in the lulling sort of way that Hawke really liked and maybe had mentioned on a few occasions.

"And you're just going to, what, lay there and play with my hair until I fall asleep?"

Fenris's bare toes pressed against Hawke's ankle. "Yes."

Hawke smiled faintly, gripping at Fenris's free hand. For a minute, he wasn't certain what to say. He was usually the one soothing Fenris, whether it be from nightmares or memories of his past. Wasn't often it was the other way around, but Maker did it feel nice. "Don't stay awake too long," he said softly, instead of anything else. The _thank you_ was unspoken.

The last thing he remembered before he fell asleep was Fenris's fingers gentle against the hair at the nape of his neck and his arm around his torso.

 

 

"Inquisitor, meet Hawke, the Champion of Kirkwall."

"Although I don't go by that much anymore," Hawke amended, descending the stairs.

"And his... what do I even call you, Broody? Boyfriend? Lover? Life partner?"

"Life partner's good," Hawke said.

"Fenris," Fenris interrupted. "My name is Fenris." He eyed the Dalish Inquisitor but said nothing else, even if Hawke could see the wheels turning. Fenris could be diplomatic; Fenris could and usually would be on his best behavior when it wasn't their own close group of friends, but that didn't mean he wasn't thinking a mile a minute.

There was a moment of recognition in the Inquisitor's eyes as he looked between Fenris and Hawke, and Hawke wanted to give a little wave and say  _"cheers to both of us having_ gorgeous _boyfriends!"_ , but he did not.

"It's a pleasure to meet you," the Inquisitor said instead. "Thank you both for coming."

"I just wish it was on better circumstances," Hawke said, propping his elbows on the battlements. "Huh. You know, this view reminds me of my home in Kirkwall." He glanced over. "I used to have this balcony that overlooked the whole city. I used to love it, at first. After awhile, all I started seeing were the people out there who were depending on me. Loses a little bit of its charm when you've got dead eyes staring up at you all the time."

The Inquisitor said nothing for a moment, and then "At least you only had one city. I've got half of Thedas".

Hawke nodded slightly, glancing over to the Inquisitor's hand. It wasn't glowing. Evidently it only did that near rifts. Anchor, Varric had called it.

"You're doing everything you can to protect them."

"Does it ever get any easier?"

Hawke snorted, not quite able to catch himself in his derision. "I'll let you know." He glanced over his shoulder, where Varric was shoving a bottle in Fenris's face. Fenris growled and swept it away, glaring at the dwarf for a moment before putting it to his lips. "Well, maybe it's not that bad. For every person that relies on you, there's someone else to share the burden with you." Fenris glanced over at him. Hawke looked back out over Skyhold. "I've seen your army, Inquisitor. I knew Commander Cullen, back in Kirkwall. If anyone can train them, he can. But you're the one they rally for. They will stand with you in your time of need. The one good thing about having the half of Thedas watching your back is that they will _literally_ have your back, come what may."

The Inquisitor was looking at him, and Fenris was looking at him, and Hawke could practically hear Varric grinning, as the dwarf was wont to do when Hawke gave a speech. Which had happened, what, _once_? Right before their final battle, of course Hawke had had to say something then. Ideally, he would have gone for a group hug, but... the timing hadn't been right? Yeah, that had been disappointing.

He cleared his throat. "So, no, I don't exactly envy you, Inquisitor, but I may be able to help you."

 

 

"I'm not sure there ever was just an "Anders"," Hawke admitted, and could feel the tension spike in the way that Fenris moved, breathed, just then. "He was crazy by the end, consumed by the need to start a war that no one could win."

"He was crazy at the beginning," Fenris hissed.

"Come on, Broody, he wasn't _all_ bad. He helped us get into the Deep Roads," Varric said.

"After Hawke risked his safety to try and smuggle out a _mage_ for him. Blackmail at its finest."

Hawke gestured over his shoulder at his companions. "Sore spot. It was a mess. Still is."

The Inquisitor sighed. Ran his fingers through his hair and nodded. "Okay. Well. Thanks for the information, and for coming to help. I have some things to attend to before we start out, but we'll be right behind you."

"Yeah. We'll meet you in Crestwood. Maker watch over you."

"Creators go with you."

Hawke watched the Inquisitor walk away, and didn't miss the way he rubbed at his forehead as he went. If he thought he had a headache now, he had a long way to go. He'd get there, with the Inquisition's help, anyway.

"Are we going?" Fenris asked, stepping over.

"Yeah. I want to get to Stroud, especially if the Wardens are being controlled by Corypheus again. Hopefully he'll be able to give us some more information about it."

"Finally." Fenris strode for the stairs. "There are too many mages here for my liking."

"Don't like the vacation spot, Broody?"

"Too many mages. Did I not just say?" Fenris paused on the stairs. "Coming, Hawke?"

"Yeah, just a sec. Go on ahead, I'll catch up." He turned to Varric, who shrugged and held out the bottle to him now.

Hawke took it.

"I really intended to leave you out of this," Varric said. "Shit, Hawke, I know how much you've been trying to distance yourself from all of this, and dragging you away from Fenris..."

Hawke scrunched his nose, dragging his hand against his mouth. "Well, turns out I wasn't going anywhere without Fenris, so you don't have to worry about that."

"I hope you guys didn't have an all-out screaming match because of me. It's just... somehow gotten to this point, I don't know."

"We don't have many screaming matches," Hawke mused. "Not really. We argue, but." He shrugged.

"Ha. Doesn't everybody?"

"There was no discussion this time, really. It was just... eerily calm." He was quiet for a moment. "I tried to tell him to stay, but..." He shook his head. "Told me he was coming whether or not I wanted him to, and you know he would have, following a half day behind me if he needed. At least this way I could keep an eye on him. Still _terrifies_ me," he admitted, "because I could lose him any minute and he could lose me, too, and I don't really know where this is coming from because we go our separate ways all the times on jobs." He pushed his fingers through his hair and sighed, holding out his hands in a _who knows_ sort of way.

"You're in love. It screws things up, Hawke."

Hawke laughed dryly. "Yeah."

"You and Broody... you're _probably_ two of the strongest people I know-"

"Only probably? Aren't we _definitely_ the two strongest people you know?" Hawke interrupted jokingly.

Varric grinned. "No. You're great, Hawke, but have you met The Seeker yet? That woman is more deadly than Isabela and a game of Wicked Grace, and _I_ have to face her for keeping you from the Inquisition until now."

"Good luck."

"If I get my neck wrung, tell them to bury me with Bianca."

"Oh, yeah, sure, I'll be sure to tell the Inquisitor."

Varric shook his head mockingly and leaned back, looking towards where Haven used to be. "Yeah... He's one of those people, too. The strong ones. He looks a little wispy, all cheekbones and silver hair and shit, but he's good guy. Young, but then, so were you."

"I'm only thirty-five. I'm still young!"

Varric waved him off. "Yeah, yeah. You'll be saying that when you're ninety, too."

"Probably." Hawke shrugged. "I agree, though. He doesn't know what he's in for, I don't think, but he's got this sort of determination about him. If anybody can save the world, it's probably him. Him and the rest of this Inquisition. I hope."

"I hope, too," Varric said, "because we don't have any other options as far as the rifts go. I trust him." He shrugged. "Do what we can in the meantime, right?"

"Yeah."

"Ah, well, I should let you get going. Fenris is probably going to go stir-crazy if you take too long. It's nice to see you again, Hawke, really. Wish it wasn't under these circumstances, but, hey, since when have our lives been normal?"

"Normal! Overrated." Hawke clapped his hand on Varric's shoulder. "Nice to see you, too. Talk to you later."

"Yeah."

Normal was overrated, but now and then? Some down time would be nice. But he guessed that was what he got for four years of more or less domesticity, nevermind if it was on the run.

"Bull!" the Inquisitor called across the courtyard, and Hawke looked over the ramparts as the Qunari paused in the doorway of the tavern. "Have you seen Cole? Tell him I need him to go with us. We're leaving as soon as we're ready!"

"I'll let him know!"

"I might need you, too. I'll let you know."

"Sure thing, Boss! Here if you need me!"

The Inquisitor waved and continued to climb the stairs into the main hall of the Skyhold fortress, and Hawke turned away with a little smile. Varric was right. This Inquisition was the best chance they had right now. They were all so willing. They might regret it later, but it was their choice, just like coming here with Fenris had been his.

Hawke lengthened his stride to return to their room.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A quick explanation: Dorian is my favourite person in DAI, and, obviously, Fenris is my favourite in DA2. As much as people like to say Fenris would absolutely _hate_ Dorian, and don't get me wrong, I LOVE the fanart that comes out of that xD I personally don't feel like Fenris would hate him on pure principal. Fenris doesn't like mages, either, but he does respect Hawke and Bethany, and can end up with a mage Hawke (like in this story). So, I don't have him at Dorian's throat. (I do believe, however, Fenris would be 100% done with him if the conversation about Dorian's view on slavery came up. _That_ would do it for Fenris, not purely the Tevinter thing.) Just my view on the matter!


	6. Chapter Five

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It sure is rainy in Crestwood, _ugh_.

"You okay?"

Fenris was drenched to the bone. So was Hawke. But Fenris was the one to glare at him just then, hair plastered against his face, all of the traveling cape he wore over his armor, including the hood, draped wetly around him in the pouring rain.

"It's wet."

"Yeah... noticed. You feeling okay?"

"I'm _wet_."

Hawke stifled a laugh, and licked rain water from his lips. "I just don't want you to get a cold or something."

"Worry for yourself."

"At least we're only about a day out now," Hawke continued. "Once we meet up with Stroud and the Inquisitor, we can talk about our next move. Get out of the rain in the meantime."

"Good."

He and Fenris had been together for over a decade now. Maybe not romantically for all of that time, but he had been in the elf's company for over a decade. And now, after several days on the road together, well. They were enveloped in silence. It wasn't really uncomfortable, but it wasn't their best, either. Usually they had cuddling in the midst of all of it. On horseback, you couldn't really do that.

And Hawke didn't know what to talk about because _woo not dead magister servant of the Blight_.

A flash of lightning lit up the darkened sky. Their horses whinnied, and Hawke blinked against the bright afterimage in his eyes. "Ah, crap."

"Thunderstorms. I should have known. I thought the horses were getting antsy." Fenris's gloved fingers tightened on the reins.

"We should stop."

"Probably," Fenris agreed, and the rumble of thunder that crashed through seemed to drive the point home.

"That works, anyway, we should sleep for a little. Huh, let's see... There should be caves over there." He thumbed towards the cliff wall.

"Hopefully." Fenris softly urged his horse into a trot and Hawke was quick to follow suit, charging ahead of him to scout out potential shelter. If they had gone at a gallop, they might have been at the last place he had been told Stroud was, but he also knew the Inquisition was setting up camp along the way, and getting there ahead of them wasn't going to progress this any faster. He was only an honorary part of the Inquisition now; decisions were not his to make.

 _That_ in itself was both a relief _and_ a disappointment at the same time.

"Oh. _There_. Old camp?" Hawke slid from the saddle, boots squelching wetly as he landed in the mud. "Watch the horses? I'll go check it."

"Be careful."

"Always am." Hawke lit up one of the old abandoned torches near the entrance and headed in, giving Fenris a little wave over his shoulder. It was wet and smelled of mold and dirt. Reminded him of Gamlen's house, a little. Hawke snorted softly; at least there were stone floors here, washed somewhat clean through dripping water and wildlife that had tracked in recently. It was definitely an old camp. The canvas tents were still set up and the spoils of travel still remained here. Hawke would check out the chests in a moment.

For the time, he just checked out the far corners of the small cavern and, save a few spiders, it was perfect for waiting out the storm. He lit the last of the torches and set a fire burning on the abandoned pile of wood after a couple of tries and traipsed back to the front of the cave.

"It's perfect," he said, squinting as the rain swept into his eyes. The wind had changed. "Bring the horses in, get out of the storm!"

"I... do not like this place, Hawke," Fenris complained shortly, copying Hawke's motion to take off their heavy armor.

"The cave or Crestwood?"

"To be honest, I never thought I would see the day where I missed the likes of Kirkwall," Fenris replied.

"So, Crestwood." Hawke reached over to help Fenris with his armor. "After this, maybe we go back to Kirkwall."

"Do you think we should?"

"It's been four years. Going on five. After the Conclave, the Divine, now this with Corypheus... I don't know. Maybe they're more focused on that. Maybe they're more focused on Anders. Last time we were there, Aveline said they were still looking for him."

Fenris rolled his shoulders as Hawke removed the armor, looking off towards the mouth of the cave. "I saw Sebastian, awhile ago."

"Sebastian? _Where?_ "

"Highever." Fenris ran his fingers back through his dripping hair. "I don't know what he was doing there."

"You should have told me," Hawke said. "I haven't seen him since he took off. How is he doing?"

Fenris shrugged slightly. "We didn't speak."

"Oh."

"He recognized me," Fenris said. "He is still angry," he added.

Hawke sighed. "Shit. 'm sorry, Fen, I know you and Sebastian had a good rapport with each other."

"Anders would have been better off dead-"

"Oh, _Fen_ -" _Not this again._

"- but I did not leave when you made your decision," Fenris concluded. "That decision was shaped by my experiences. Sebastian's was shaped by his. I am sorry he left, but the choice was his."

"Me, too." Hawke rest his head on the top of Fenris's head. "We just have so few precious friends. The number keeps dwindling as the years go on."

"I'm not going anywhere except with you."

It had been so many years since he had met Fenris, and Fenris had been with him for all of those years. Even when they had gone through that awkward phase of not quite breaking up but not quite being together, Fenris had still been an integral part of his group, both in fighting and friendship. And every time Fenris said that, every time that Fenris _proved_ that, Hawke was still struck down, because everyone who _ever_ said that him always left, _always_. And maybe it wasn't their decision, maybe sometimes it was, but in the end? They always did.

But Fenris was proving him wrong. Fenris was still here. Fenris was following him into the darkness, into those strange places that he had promised years ago.

Hawke swallowed, closed his eyes. "Yeah, I know." He squeezed the elf's shoulder and broke away. "Hopefully the storm lets up a bit soon. We don't want the Inquisition to beat us there. Stroud doesn't know them." He pushed the canvas aside and stooped to peer into one of tents. "This looks nice. Well, nicer than a patch of wet ground."

"It's still wet." Fenris seemed to be trying to wring the water out of his cape, at the least. "As are our clothes." He sighed and let it fall heavily to the ground with a wet splat.

"Making the best of it," Hawke said, mock cheerfully, and gestured for Fenris to crawl into the tent. "I'll take first watch."

"No. I'm not tired. I'll watch and tend the fire."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes."

"Okay. 'night. Or day. Whatever time it is, with the sky being all dark," Hawke muttered, crawling into their makeshift tent for the night. "Wake me up if you need me, love."

"Yes. Goodnight, Hawke."

"Don't set the place on fire."

"That's your area of expertise, not mine."

"It was only the curtains, _once_!"

Fenris's laughter was barely audible over the pounding of the rain, and Hawke folded his arms beneath his head comfortably.

　

 

He was shaken awake; before he could even open his mouth, a familiar hand was pressed over his lips and Hawke came around a little more quickly.

Fenris's face was only just illuminated by the remains of the dying fire, eyes shadowed. But alert. Hawke sat up, narrowly missing taking the canvas down with his head. "Undead," Fenris mouthed, and vanished from the entrance of the tent. Hawke followed him silently, reaching for a dagger instead of his staff. Less clunky in their enclosed quarters. He nodded at Fenris and Fenris held his gaze for a moment before slinking forward in the half light.

The fight was simple. The undead were double dead in less than two minutes, and the only thing they had to show for it was blood smattering against the ground and their mail.

"Must be getting close."

Fenris looked over.

"Old Crestwood was flooded years ago... all those people that were killed. Undead are no surprise, especially with the rifts." Hawke squinted towards the entrance of the cave. The undead had gotten in far. "I'm sure we'll have to fight through more by the time this is over."

"It could be worse," Fenris said, propping his blade against the wall. "I'm going to go check on the-"

There was an almighty crack, Hawke saw Fenris jump as he flinched himself; the glare of the lightning flashing even down the cave hallway. It was only followed by the equally worse sound of the horses whinnying and the heavy thud of hooves against the ground.

" - the horses!" Fenris sprang into action, darting towards the mouth and Hawke sprinted after him.

One of the horses was still where they had tied them, untouched by the undead, but the other was missing, the rope that had tied it pulled right in two. To make it worse still...

"Hawke?" Fenris had stopped just outside, staring off towards the tree line, where there was fire licking along the branches, burning wildly even despite the heavy rain.

" _Oh_." The lightning must have struck. The rain would have put it out, he suspected, but he helped it along, extinguishing the blaze with a wave of his hand. He could feel the energy draining from his veins. Overtired, and he needed to recharge on lyrium. He rubbed his wrist slightly and hoped the fire stayed out.

Fenris tore his eyes away from the embers. "We lost a horse." He took a few steps further out, silhouette illuminated against another flash and a rumble.

Hawke's mouth was dry. "Fenris, come back in. The storm's too close."

"Wonderful," Fenris muttered. "We need to make sure the other horse is tied- ah!"

"Fenris!" Hawke ran out into the ran and almost did the same exact thing that Fenris evidently had done: slipped in the mud. He caught himself before he ended up face first. "Fenris? You okay?" He stooped down and squinted in the darkness.

" _Mud_ ," Fenris spat, venom dripping from his tone.

Mud. The corner of Hawke's lips twitched. He held out a hand to him. "Come on."

Fenris grabbed at his hand, but fingers slick with mud only slipped away and Fenris needing to catch himself again made Hawke burst out laughing.

" _Hawke_ ," he complained.

"I'm sorry." Hawke laughed, hooking his hands under Fenris's arms to pull him up. "Careful. Don't fall again."

"This is not _funny_!"

Hawke pulled him back under the confines of the cave walls. "It's a tiny bit funny."

Fenris stared up at him for a moment before narrowing his eyes. Oh, no, Hawke _knew_ that look- The elf grabbed Hawke's face between both of his mud-slathered hands and pecked a kiss against his lips.

"Fenris!" he protested.

"It's not funny, is it?" Fenris asked, although that coy little smile said otherwise.

"But you slipped, _I_ didn't! This is all in my beard now!"

"Oh, such a pity."

"How am I supposed to get it out?!"

Fenris straightened up from checking on their remaining horse. "Go stand in the rain," he said sarcastically, brushing by him.

" _Ooh_ , I'm so going to get you back, you smug little bastard!" He charged after his elven adversary, so reminiscent of the times that they'd chased each other through their homes. Like those times usually did, they ended up in the bedroom (in this case: the tent), but it had ended with only cuddles, cold and wet and tired, Fenris's head pillowed on Hawke's chest as the elf slept. Hawke threw back a lyrium potion and watched Fenris sleep until the storms finally stopped.

Fenris didn't sleep long. They were used to short sleep shifts already. _Again_.

"Sleep well?" Hawke greeted.

"Yes." Fenris scrubbed the back of his hand against his eyes, groaning when he ran into the dried mud on his face from a few hours ago. "Ugh, Hawke." He scraped at the swipe of mud that Hawke had painted over his nose.

"We match," Hawke repeated with a little smile. He'd said the same earlier.

"I can't move my face."

Hawke chuckled, scratching a little of the mud away from Fenris's face. "We need to wash up before we head out."

"The rain will wash it away," Fenris muttered, straightening up a little.

"Yeah."

"Then we can go."

Hawke winced as he stood up, stretching his cramped limbs. "Yeah. Back in a sec. Nature calls."

"You could have woken me up," Fenris mumbled, scrubbing at the mud on his skin as he rummaged for some of their provisions.

"Nah, you were too cute," Hawke said over his shoulder. At least the storms had finally stopped. It sounded like it wasn't even raining as much, which was a relief. Maybe less traipsing through the pouring. It sounded like it wasn't even raining at... He poked his head outside. It _wasn't_ raining. It was sunny, actually. "Oh, thank the Maker! Hey, _Fen_!"

"What?"

"Stopped raining!"

"What?"

"It stopped- oh, just hang on!"

It made the last leg of their journey a lot more comfortable, sans the rain. They washed off in one of the little lakes made by all of the precipitation and rode, Fenris hanging onto the reins of the horse and Hawke sitting behind him with his arms wrapped around him the whole time.

Their conversation with Stroud lasted all of five minutes before they were heading off to the Western Approach, and Hawke could barely pretend that his good mood hadn't completely dissolved. Seeker Cassandra was looking at him too closely, and Fenris was on high alert from both Dorian _and_ Cole's presence. Combine in what Stroud had told them about Warden-Commander Clarel...

Blood magic. A blood ritual to prevent future Blights.

 _"Of course it is to prevent future Blights,"_ Fenris had interrupted. Angrily. And Hawke had agreed. _Of course_ it was blood magic. _Of course_ there was a reason. There always _was_.

Fenris's arms were unsure around his torso, forehead bumping against Hawke's shoulder. "Hawke..."

"It's okay, Fen."

"Stitches. So many stitches, drawn together, drawing breath but not breathing. How could he do it, end lives to bring back a life when there was no life, only corpses-"

Hawke's head snapped up. He heard Fenris's gasp from behind his right shoulder.

"- left to rot. Left to die while living but not living. She died in my arms and said she was proud, but how could she be-"

"Stop."

"Fenris."

Cole looked at Hawke sadly from under the brim of his hat. "She _was_ proud."

" _Stop!_ " Fenris growled, and Hawke caught the flicker of lyrium from the corner of his eye.

He patted Fenris's hands around his waist reassuringly, even though he didn't feel very reassuring. "It's _okay_."

Fenris fell silent save for muttering Tevene under his breath, arms constricting around Hawke's waist.

"Cole, stay out of our visitor's heads," Cassandra said. "It's disconcerting enough when you do it to us, and we know you."

"Sorry."

Hawke plastered on a smile. "Don't worry about it."

"They have so much hurt," Cole murmured.

"They've fought a war, Cole," Dorian said. "I doubt the uprising at Kirkwall felt like a seasonal tickle under the nose," he whispered back.

"But I want to help."

"Sometimes we need to carry that pain for ourselves."

"Like Rilienus?"

"... Yes, something like that," Dorian said stiffly. "Our past helps to shape our future," he added, and was looking at the Inquisitor's back as he said it. "Our hurt helps us heal."

"That... doesn't make sense," Cole said softly.

Dorian laughed. "Welcome to the human world. Where we're all walking time bombs and nothing makes sense at all!"

Cole's lips were pinched into a frown, but he said nothing else.

Surprisingly, despite Fenris's hesitance with the Tevinter in their party, Fenris said nothing, either.

 


	7. Chapter Six

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Happiness (an interlude)

" _Maker_."

Fenris pulled his hand free of the man's chest, gauntlets crushing the heart to shreds beneath his fingers.

"Well, that's something!"

Hawke put his staff away, glancing back at the group watching him and Fenris. "Oh, yeah, he can do that," he said. "First time I saw him rip out someone's heart, I was in love. Thankfully he didn't capture my heart in the same way, but, you know." He smiled at Fenris, who responded by turning away to clean off his gauntlets. Still didn't take compliments well. What a sweetheart.

"That has to do with your markings?" Cassandra asked curiously. The Seeker had been trying to get closer to them since they had all left Crestwood together. She seemed a little hesitant, almost like she wanted to dislike them and was finding it difficult. "Lyrium, yes?"

Fenris glanced back, eyes flickering over the Inquisitor, Cassandra, Dorian, Cole, and sweeping to Hawke before bouncing back to the Seeker. He wasn't accustomed to being the center of attention. "Yes."

" _How_?"

"You would have to ask Danarius," Fenris said stiffly. "He's dead." He turned back to his mount, effortlessly swinging back onto the horse's back. They'd managed to get different mounts along the way. The Inquisitor had an impressive hart, and Hawke might have been a tiny bit jealous.

"Oh."

Dorian was looking thoughtful. Hawke caught his gaze and shook his head slightly. _Don't go there._ They all might actually end up dead if Dorian went there, and not by design of the Freemen of the Dales. He had no problem with Dorian. He seemed like a good guy, really. But he knew Fenris was on edge enough with the mage already, and that was enough to try and keep the peace preemptively.

"I know Danarius," Dorian said thoughtfully, voice hushed, as he fell back to ride next to Hawke. "Knew him. Knew _of_ him. Everyone in Tevinter does. I was young at the time, but I've read about it since."

"Then you'll know why he doesn't trust anyone from the Imperium."

"Well, that's hardly fair. We're not _all_ power-hungry blood leeches."

"I know," Hawke agreed. "He knows, too. But when you have the kind of experience he did, you don't tend to ask questions first."

"I am sorry for him," Dorian replied. "We all know about Danarius's... project. He seems like he turned out all right, though. Not too crazy or despotic."

"I think he turned out all right," Hawke said, eyebrow shooting up. "I mean, obviously."

"Yes. Comparatively," Dorian continued, "thank you for not... saying anything."

"About?"

Dorian's eyes drifted to the Inquisitor's back. "Him. _Us_. When you happened upon the two of us in Skyhold."

"Oh." Hawke shrugged. "I guessed you weren't being entirely forthcoming with all of them. Not my secret to share."

"Well, they know _now_ ," Dorian said. "Secrets don't stay secret in Skyhold very long, especially in our inner circle." He sounded a little irritated, but the tone came with a small shrug. "My father tricked me into meeting him after all these years and it all just sort of..." He held out a hand. "Snowballed."

"Family not supportive, I take it?"

Dorian laughed loud enough that even Fenris, who was scouting ahead of even the Inquisitor, looked back critically. " _Ohhh_ , you could say that."

"I'm sorry."

The mage's laughter was replaced with something akin to surprise. "Whatever for? _I'm_ the one talking your ear off; _you're_ the one being painfully polite."

"It's not like we have anything else to do." Hawke gestured to the wildlife around them. He had never been to the Exalted Plains. They were passing through on their way to the Approach, but if they had time after this, he would have liked to explore with Fenris some more. "But your family not supporting you," he continued, "I'm sorry for that."

"Let me guess: your family didn't, either?"

"Huh? Oh, no, Father never knew, but Mother didn't dissuade me. The only one who ever had anything bad to say about it was my uncle, and I didn't really care one way or the other. Oh, I guess my brother got pissy about it sometimes. He gets pissy about a lot of things when I'm involved, though."

"Ah."

"But, at least you've got him now, right?" He nodded towards the Inquisitor.

Dorian nodded. "Yes, that seems to be an agreeable side-effect of all of this madness."

"Fenris was light in my darkness, too."

"Sometimes literally, I would imagine," Dorian remarked. "Those markings and all."

He snickered. "His lyrium reacts to my magic, sometimes."

" _Really_?"

"Oh, I don't know why I said that." Hawke tried to wipe the smile off his lips. Didn't manage well. "Please don't say anything to him, that's personal. Just slipped out." It wasn't an all the time thing, and it happened for different reasons. Fenris had glowed in sporadic bursts in the beginning, when their relationship had been more rocky, and Hawke suspected he had never been entirely truthful on the _why_. After time, though, the lyrium seemed to have taken to his magic, bonded with it, almost, and sometimes, now? Sometimes it didn't matter if they had the lights off.

"Your secret is safe with me, I swear it," Dorian promised. "After all, you kept ours."

　

 

"You get along well with the Tevinter."

"Yeah, he seems nice. And now you're making that face like you sucked on a lemon. I thought you _weren't_ judging based on where he comes from."

"I'm not. But I don't trust him either."

"I don't know if I trust him, yet, either," Hawke said, pulling his shirt over his head. "But he seems like a nice guy."

"Looks can be misleading."

Wait a second. Hawke glanced over his shoulder to gauge where the rest of the Inquisition was milling at, and then cleared the distance between him and Fenris. "You sound a little jealous."

"I'm not _jealous_."

"I'm not trying to exclude you, if I'm doing that somehow."

"You're not!"

Hawke blinked at the sharpness in the elf's tone. His eyebrows were probably in danger of vanishing into his hairline. His bangs were getting long. He probably needed a haircut, actually. Ah, later.

Fenris sighed. "You're not. I'm just worried about you."

"Why are you worried about me?"

"Your ability to meld right into a situation." He fumbled for the ribbon in his hair. "Sometimes you make it seem so effortless. It's not."

"You're fitting in just fine yourself, Fen."

"I didn't come to _fit in_. I came to do a job," he said, tugging against the scrap of ribbon knotted into his hair, "but it seems like you are _too_ at ease. Ow."

"Let me." Hawke bumped Fenris's hands away from the knot in the ribbon. "I'm glad I'm faking good enough, but I'm not relaxed. I'm _terrified_. Does that help?"

Fenris turned his head slightly. "... No."

"Okay, then I'm totally relaxed."

"Hawke."

He tugged the ribbon free, swooping Fenris's hair over his shoulder. "Really, I'm just good with people, you know that. I can keep my guard up better than I ever could in Kirkwall. I'm still scared. Angry," he added as an afterthought. "The fucking Wardens, even if they are hearing the Calling... Nothing ever justifies blood magic. Ugh, nevermind." He shook his head. "I'm not... unworried about everything. I just internalize things a little. A lot," he amended truthfully. "But, I get to keep you in arm's reach, so that helps. Okay?"

"... You can talk to me," Fenris said, a touch awkward. He stepped away to finish undressing. "I am here."

"I know, and I love you for it. It's the same this way, too, you know. Anything you need."

Fenris nodded. "Yes."

"Yes," Hawke echoed. "And right _now_ , we need a bath." He stretched and eyed the waterfall. "Or a shower, whatever. Come on. I'll kiss you under the waterfall."

"Oh, is that a promise?"

"Yep!" Hawke kicked his breeches off and swept Fenris from his feet, ignoring his little gasp of surprise.

"Hawke, put me _down_."

"Nope!"

"Hawke!"

"Gonna kiss you under the waterfall!"

"Hawke- _fasta vass_ , that's cold!"

Hawke laughed as the water crashed down around his ears, as Fenris scrabbled to lock his arms around Hawke's neck as the gooseflesh rose on their skin. His nails dug into his shoulders and water rushed over his head.

"Stop laughing!"

Hawke did stop laughing, but only long enough to lean over and capture Fenris's lips in a frigid kiss. It really was freezing. His toes were going numb.

Fenris groaned. The vibrations traveled through Hawke's lips. "This is one of the least romantic things you have ever done." He didn't pull away from the kiss.

Hawke reached out blindly, hand clapping against the rock wall. He channeled fire through his fingers, heating up the stone. "Hold on." He hooked his hand under Fenris's thighs, hauling him upright instead of bridal and pushed him back against the rock.

"Oh." Fenris locked his arms around Hawke's neck, bare legs around his torso.

"Better?"

"A little." Fenris tangled his fingers into Hawke's wet hair, fingers stroking against the nape of his neck. "Let us try that again." He leaned forward and brushed his lips against Hawke's. "If you're amendable."

"Always," Hawke said, dropping a soft kiss against his lips.

Fenris's lips curved into a smile, gentle enough to match the kiss he returned to Hawke's lips. "Good," he said. He was barely audible over the rush of water. It was fine. They didn't need the words. The pass of soft skin against each other's, the way Fenris's hot breath chased away the chill the water cast upon his face. Fingers against his neck, toying with a strand of hair, a kiss that left them breathless in the cold.

"I'm happy wherever you are. I swear it," Hawke breathed. "The world can be ending out there but if we're together-"

Fenris interrupted him with a kiss. "Don't talk about the end of the world. It will ruin the moo-" His head snapped up.

"Fen?" Hawke's grip tightened around the elf, reflexively. Demons? Freemen? Templars? Now wasn't the best time to get caught with their pants down - well, not _on_ , technically. Hawke could still set whoever on fire without his staff, but the principal was the same.

"We have an audience."

"What?" Hawke twisted his head around, keeping Fenris pressed back against the wall. "Who- oh." He stopped as Cassandra spluttered an apology and vanished into the trees. "Was the _Seeker_ just watching us??"

Fenris narrowed his eyes at the spot she had vanished. "So it seems." He said it almost like a question.

" _Why?_ "

Fenris looked back at him. "Do you expect me to know?"

"I guess she was just drawn in by our beauty and general exhibitionist behavior," Hawke joked.

Fenris untangled himself from Hawke. "I cannot believe you. This was truly _not_ the best idea."

"She didn't see anything she shouldn't. Not of yours, anyway."

"That's not the point. She saw _you_." Fenris shoved his hair out of his face, ducking under the spray of the waterfall again.

"Better me than you." Hawke stepped away, shaking the water from his hair. Fenris was still self-conscious about anything like this, ranging from bathing to semi-public sex, so, yeah, better him than Fenris. Not that Fenris hadn't accepted his markings, but Hawke still knew being naked in front of other people made him uncomfortable. Not that he ever _said_ as much. He just got acidic. That was enough.

"We should get back to camp," Fenris continued, scrubbing the water against his skin. "And get some sleep while we can."

"Sounds fine." Hawke watched him for a moment, and then asked something he'd been wondering. "Hey, I meant to ask, have you been here before?"

"The Plains? Yes."

"Really?"

"We passed by once. There's nothing here."

"You don't like it?"

Fenris blinked the water out of his eyes. "It... has something, I suppose. You like it." It wasn't a question.

"Yeah. I mean, it's kind of gruesome, I know all about the history, but it's got this kind of serene beauty, don't you think?"

"Hm."

"I was thinking we could come back here, after all this is done."

"A vacation in the Exalted Plains?"

Hawke nodded. "Sure. I mean, our permanent vacation of the past few years hasn't exactly been... relaxing."

"And you want to visit a plain with bloody history as a romantic getaway?"

"Well, when you say it like _that_..."

Fenris shrugged, splashing back to the shore to get dressed. "I am happy wherever you're happy."

"Yes, you've said that, and that's great, but where do _you_ want to go?"

"I really don't mind, Hawke."

"That answers my question exactly _zero_ percent."

"Lothering."

Hawke looked up. _Lothering?_ His foot slipped off of one of the wet rocks and he went down, hard, with a jolt and a splash and the pain of more than one rock scraping against his skin.

"Hawke?" Fenris got as far as taking a step forward, ankle deep in the rushing water that stained the pantsleg of his trousers dark. Hawke held up his hands. One was stinging from where he'd tried to catch himself.

"I'm okay."

Fenris narrowed his eyes, but stilled.

"Lothering?" Hawke pushed himself up, taking Fenris's extended hand as he helped back onto the shore. "Lothering's gone, Fenris."

"Whatever is left, then."

"I... doubt there was anything left." Yes, it had been years since Lothering had been taken by the Blight. And yes, it had been years since he had settled in at Kirkwall and _yes_ , it had been years since he had been forced to leave Kirkwall and live on the run. But no, he hadn't gone back to Lothering. He could still remember telling Fenris, long ago, _"maybe one day"_. While their travels had led him close to Lothering, Hawke had never gone back. He just... hadn't. He still wanted to. It was just more daunting than he had expected it would be.

"Even so, I would like to see the place you were raised. If you do not wish to go back, however, I understand."

"No, I do. It's just... hard," he admitted.

"There is no rush." Fenris quirked an eyebrow, and gave a sly, little smile. "Except perhaps to redress. The cold water did little to-"

"Oh, shit! Clothes! I almost forgot," he said sarcastically, but hurriedly made to wiggle his way back into his smalls before anyone could get wrong assumptions based on that cold shower. "Back to camp?" he asked when he was finished dressing, uncomfortably damp in all the wrong places but at least free of blood. He held out his hand to Fenris with a little, inquiring look.

"Yes." Fenris did not hesitate in taking that hand.

It was almost normal. They talked about having oatmeal for breakfast and fighting off bandits and looking for old caravans to loot because they might be able to afford new armor in the next town if they kept adding to the gold stash. It was almost normal, save that they were about to charge in on some blood ritual in the Western Approach.

They had split apart to hunt, scout, or wash, and Fenris and Hawke were the only ones in the camp when they arrived (Inquisition scouts notwithstanding). Hawke led the way over to the campfire and spruced it up, pulling Fenris against his chest. They didn't talk, much, save the occasional _"your elbow is in my side, Hawke."_ or the _"do you think you'll rip out someone's heart again, Fen? They were looking on in awe"_ comment.

Fenris heard their friends approaching before Hawke did, and sat up accordingly, propping his elbows on his knees. They would retire to a tent soon, Hawke imagined, and he stretched, ruffled up his drying hair.

Cassandra was the one to step back into camp, and Hawke stifled a laugh at the Seeker's suddenly mortified face. "Well, this is awkward," he supplied, if only to break the ice.

"I didn't mean to spy on you, I swear," Cassandra replied quickly. "I was just walking, and I saw movement."

"And decided to stay and watch," Fenris intoned, staring into the fire. Don't get him wrong. He was probably just as embarrassed as the Seeker.

"I did not intend to infringe upon your privacy," Cassandra said, a little stiffly. "It's just... I couldn't help it! It's so romantic! You're both so in love! It's the kind of things you only hear about in books, not see in reality!"

 _What?_ Hawke shared an uncertain glance with Fenris. Was he hearing the Seeker right? She was... she was a hopeless romantic? _The Seeker?_

"Like a scene straight out of _Swords & Shields_," Cassandra sighed. "A kiss under the waterfall, how romantic."

"You read _Swords & Shields_!?" Hawke gasped, sitting up.

"Oh, _no_ ," Fenris muttered.

"Has Varric told you anything about a new chapter?" Hawke asked eagerly. "The last one ended on a cliffhanger!"

"I know! He actually let me..." she trailed off, eyes morphing to uncertain slits. She seemed to realize what she was saying, and who she was saying it to. Probably mostly just what she was saying. Her lips pursed and she crossed her arms. "Say nothing to anyone," she said succinctly, and then grabbed the opening of her tent and ducked inside.

Hawke shouldn't have laughed, but Maker did it feel good to. He might have even felt a little bad for Cassandra, who assuredly heard him, but he couldn't exactly find the button to _stop_ chuckling once he had flipped that switch. Even Fenris gave him a wary-eyed sort of goofy look, but there was a genuine sort of soft happiness glowing in those green eyes as he watched him that Hawke hadn't seen in weeks.

"Remind me to ask Varric about a new chapter," he said, nudging Fenris, when he could talk properly over his sudden paroxysms of giggles. "We can read it together, yeah?"

Fenris's hand curved around Hawke's fire warmed arm and his smile was bright in the flickering light. "I would enjoy that, Hawke."

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I've been replaying DA2 and in Act I, Leandra mentions that they're re-building in Lothering, but I thought for sure I get a letter in Act II saying that the land is too tainted?? So even if that's not true, I've adopted it into my mind that Lothering was 100% a total loss, and there is still nothing there after eleven years. Hence why Hawke hasn't been able to pick up his feet and go back.
> 
> Also sorry about the late update; I got busy yesterday and then I got exhausted. Back on schedule!


	8. Chapter Seven

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Blood mages.

"That's a very serious accusation. Let's see what the Wardens think. Wardens, hands up... hands down."

"Corypheus has taken their minds," Stroud said.

"Do you _think_?" Fenris was practically spitting with rage. Hawke was hanging onto his arm to hold him back. Or maybe he was doing it to hold himself back. He wasn't sure.

"They did this to themselves. You see, the Calling had the Wardens terrified. They looked _everywhere_ for help."

There was no justification for blood magic. _None_. Hawke didn't care how _scared_ they might have been. They knew their duty. When the Calling came, they were supposed to _embrace_ it, not turn to _Tevinter_ , of all places.

_If you were in their place_ , nagged a voice in the back of his head. He ignored it, fingers seizing tighter around Fenris's gauntlet.

"I went to Clarel, full of sympathy, and together, we came up with a plan. Raise a demon army, march into the Deep Roads, and kill the Olds Gods before they wake."

"I saw this in Redcliffe," the Inquisitor murmured, and Hawke didn't know what he meant. Varric hadn't spared many details about the Inquisitor and the Tevinter's time travel, but evidently they must have seen how this fight was going to play out if Corypheus won.

Hawke didn't want to know.

"You knew about it, did you? Well, then, here you are. Sadly for the Wardens, the binding ritual I taught their mages has a side effect. They're now my master's slaves."

" _Venhedis_ ," Fenris spat.

"Hang on, hang on," Hawke muttered. "We need to hear what he has to say!" Although it was increasingly more difficult to do that when he just wanted to set his face on fire himself. He didn't _like_ this story, but they needed every detail they could get from this one lead. And _then_ they would kill him.

"We don't need _him_ , we need to find Clarel."

"I want to kill him just as much as you-"

"I _really_ don't think you do."

"We-"

The Inquisitor cried out in pain, doubling over as the Anchor on his hand flared. Stroud stepped closer, and Dorian darted forward to the Dalish's side.

"The Elder One showed me how to deal with you, in the event you were foolish enough to interfere again. That mark you bear? The Anchor that lets you pass safely through the Veil? You stole that from my master. He's been forced to seek other ways to access the Fade."

Dorian helped the Inquisitor stagger to his feet, and when the elf cast his hand towards the rift, it exploded into a flash of green and a yelp as Erimond went flying.

Fenris jerked forward free of Hawke's grasp, and no, Hawke wasn't going to let him chase after Erimond by himself, he pulled his staff free and started forward after him.

"Kill them!"

" _Vishante kaffas!_ " Fenris pivoted out of the way of the rage demon that slid up, and Hawke send a ball of ice into the demon. "Erimond!!"

"Forget it!" Hawke ordered, a flash of fire to one of the controlled mages. "We'll find him later! I need you here!"

Fenris growled and lunged forward at the spellbinder, leaving Hawke to take care of the rage demon.

It was familiar, almost, to be in the thick of spells and demons. Even the group of Inquisition members around him made it feel familiar, having people pressed around him, helping him, him helping them to protect each other. And it felt good to _fight_. The thought might have startled him more if he wasn't in the thick of battle, but these people, these Wardens? After all they had done? Stroud would call them heroes. Hawke called them out of control. He respected the Wardens, really, all except for their unwillingness to associate in things "not pertinent" to them. Like when Kirkwall had been under siege. They needed people that were willing to stand up and fight the Blight. But any measures, any at all, like Erimond had said? It was _too far_.

This was what happened when power went unchecked.

This was why Hawke still believed in mage freedom, but no longer accepted that it was that easy. _Nothing_ was ever that easy.

He turned in time to see a flash of light and Fenris get knocked flat on his ass. "Fen-" he started to choke out, but-

Cassandra hauled Fenris back onto his feet, and the green glow of a barrier settled around them. Hawke glanced over just in time to see Dorian lower his hand and return to the battle; Cassandra went for a demon and Fenris went back to the Warden mage.

Hawke blew out a breath and jolted back to reality as a demon's claws sliced against his armor.

"Are you okay?" he asked, when he could fall in next to Fenris, after the battle.

"Fine." There was blood smeared across his face, but Hawke could not tell if it was the elf's or not. He would ask later, when it was only him and Fenris. No point to freak out just yet.

"Well, then. _That_ went well," he muttered, when the last of the demons had fell.

"You were correct," Stroud said. "Through the ritual, the mages are slaves to Corypheus."

Hawke glanced back at the bodies scattered around them, the mages that they had just felled by their own hands. "But what of the Warden warriors... oh. Of course. It's not _real_ blood magic until someone gets sacrificed." _In Death, Sacrifice_. That was how it went, right? But this... this wasn't even sacrifice for the greater good. This was just _wrong_.

"Erimond lied to the Wardens," the Inquisitor said. "They were only trying to prevent future Blights."

"Even so. With blood magic and human sacrifice." He shook his head. "No. Not for anything, Inquisitor. Not even that. There needs to be a line, even for the Wardens."

Stroud frowned. "The Wardens were wrong, Hawke, but they had their reasons."

"All blood mages do," he retorted, crossing his arms. "Everyone has a story they tell themselves to justify bad decisions, and it _never matters_. In the end, you are always alone with your actions."

Fenris's eyes fell on him again, and Stroud turned his attention elsewhere, to someone willing to listen, evidently. Hawke said nothing.

"I believe I know where the Wardens are, Your Worship. Erimond fled in that direction. There's an abandoned Warden fortress that way. Adamant."

"Oh? Good work."

Hawke sighed, dropping his hands back to his side. "Stroud, Fenris, and I will scout out Adamant and confirm that the other Wardens are there. We'll meet you back at Skyhold."

The Inquisitor nodded his approval. "Don't take any unnecessary risks."

"Me?" Hawke smiled a put-upon smile, holding out his hands. "I wouldn't do such a thing."

"Yes, you would," Fenris muttered.

Hawke waved away his concern. "I'll be careful. Besides, Fenris'll keep me out of trouble."

The Inquisitor smiled a little, although he didn't look like he felt like smiling, either. Hawke knew that look. He hoped, for the Inquisitor's sake, that he got to spend some downtime with Dorian before they went to confront Clarel. Or at least to get a drink. Alcohol helped, too. "We'll await your return."

Hawke nodded and saw them off, Fenris standing stiffly at his side. Stroud took one look at them and uttered some excuse to go on ahead. The man wasn't a total idiot. (Not fair, Hawke, Stroud is a good guy. He left when they suggested the blood ritual. But he's still making excuses for them. _Shut up_.)

"Are you certain you're okay?" Hawke asked, gently dipping his fingers through the blood on Fenris's face. "Did you get hurt? I saw one of them get you."

Fenris shook his head. "It's not my blood. Mostly. It's just a scratch," he clarified, and Hawke trusted that he wasn't lying to him. "Are _you_ okay?"

"Just... just peachy," Hawke murmured, casting his gaze around the site of the ritual. "There _is_ no justification for this."

"No."

"How many people they've already sacrificed... demons are _never_ the answer."

"No."

And no matter how many times people said that, no matter how many people died for the "cause", there was never going to be an end to it. Blood magic was available, and so people would use blood magic. They would find some reason to justify themselves, to make themselves feel better. And how many more people would die because of that?

"... We can't let this continue," he said softly.

"No."

"Are my eyes beautiful?"

"... Yes?" Fenris replied, asked, in unassurance. He was looking at Hawke oddly now, as though he had gone crazy or had an ulterior motive.

Hawke laughed wearily. "Just wanted to make sure you were actually paying attention."

"I always pay attention to you." Fenris nodded towards the stairs and started for them. "Unless you're talking about dragons."

"Aww, you haven't been listening to my dragon dreams? I'll become a shapeshifter one day, Fen, just wait."

He followed along, only half invested in the conversation. That was why he was so surprised when Fenris suddenly grabbed his hand hard enough to hurt his fingers, and held on.

"I don't want you to change in _any_ way," Fenris replied. "Dragon especially."

Maybe shapeshifting wasn't wholly necessary, anyway.

　

 

Shining green eyes deep set into skin that was too fair, eyes that curved over instead of reached towards the Heavens in a point. No glowing in the darkness, and the markings only a dark line, dark lines drawn together with quick little pulls and tugs, crisscross stitches embedded into skin.

What was worse was that his voice was the same, smooth and throaty like on a Sunday morning when they woke up tangled in each other's grasp.

_"Hawke,"_ the corpse rattled, in Fenris's voice, Fenris's eyes looking at him, Fenris, Fenris, and Hawke was drowning in the abject horror, _drowning_ -

The cold water startled him. He jolted awake with a shout, and he was soaked, hair plastered to his head, water trickling down into his beard, clothes drenched and bedding damp, and _was_ he drowning? He was in their tent, Fenris kneeling next to him, looking normal, looking _alive_. The water skin was still in his hand, and he was looking on with wide eyes.

Hawke was still being dragged under, tendrils around his arms and legs and lungs, and there was water in his chest and cotton over his mouth. He opened his mouth to say something, anything, and a strangled gasp came out instead. He tried to say "Fenris". It didn't come out that way.

His vision blurred out and the terror crashed into his veins as Fenris went out of focus. There was noise, and there was movement, and Hawke's lungs felt like they were collapsing. He was going to die. They were going to die.

"Hawke!" Fenris's voice got through the muffled state, although it did make him flinch. "Sorry," Fenris apologized. "You are alright. As am I. We're in the Approach. In our tent. You need to breathe."

... The Approach? That was right, the, the... Western one, right?

"You were having a dream."

A dream? The... the one where Fenris had been taken apart and sewed back together. A blood ritual. Like his _mother_. Hawke shuddered, and Fenris's face swam into view in the moment's reprieve. He was fine. He looked fine. Not all... stitched together.

A dream.

Hawke sighed. It felt like the fight was draining his body. Or that his life was... no. No. He was fine. Fenris was fine. They were safe. They were... okay. Yes.

He fumbled for Fenris's hand when he had enough strength in his body to move an arm. He wasn't even sure he could move them properly. He felt weak and jelly-like, unsubstantial. Fenris's hand caught his searching one in mid-air, and Hawke was grounded back to reality just that little bit more.

He would _not_ cry.

The elf lowered himself down beside him, not quite touching him save the press of his arm against Hawke's and their hands entangled.

"Everything's all wet," Hawke muttered. He had to clear his voice so that it didn't crack off and shatter into the dregs of the nightmare and the terror accompanying it.

"I know. I dumped water on you."

"You'll get wet," he croaked.

"I don't care."

Hawke sighed breathlessly, unable to argue. Instead, he turned over to press his face into the crook of Fenris's neck, breathed in the scent of his skin and the nervous sweat and the almost tangible fear radiating off of him. Off of both of them.

"That was worse," Fenris remarked eventually, when Hawke's breathing had evened out and he'd all but pulled Fenris into his arms for comfort.

"... Yeah."

Fenris allowed him a moment before he asked. "Do you need to talk about it?"

"No. Maybe. ... I don't know," he breathed. "Maybe not just now. Later?" he questioned, and Fenris nodded against his chest.

"Whenever you are ready."

"Thanks." Hawke kissed his hair. His mouth still tasted like salt water. No, not salt water. Blood. Had he bit his tongue? He didn't know. Didn't care. Didn't matter. All that did was that he was safe, and Fenris was safe.

"It is not a problem," Fenris replied, fingers working nimbly to stroke away water droplets still falling from Hawke's hair. "I love you."

The sudden declaration put Hawke right back at the edge of his unstable emotions. It wasn't like Fenris didn't say it. He did. But a lot of the times, it was unspoken, or through actions, touches. Fenris was good at being nonverbal, so when he did speak? Especially now, especially when Hawke was somewhere between stable and falling apart, and he didn't even know he needed to hear that validation from anyone until, suddenly, it was the most important thing that he could have heard just then.

He closed his eyes as they stung against the emotion. Then, he laughed a little, mostly at himself, and gasped out a wavering "Thanks".

"It's not a problem," Fenris repeated. "If you need me, I am here."

"You're on a roll tonight," Hawke cracked out, managing a small smile.

"Hm. Thank you." Fenris pecked his lips against his forehead and settled down close to him again. "And Hawke?"

"Mm?"

"Do not make the mistake of believing that are alone with your actions. You are not." And his hand tightened around Hawke's, and Hawke swallowed down the ball of emotion again.

 


	9. Chapter Eight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nothing ever goes easily - relationships included.

"Maker, how did it come to this?"

"Blood magic _always_ comes to this."

"They're being misled."

"It doesn't matter."

"What if it were _Hawke_?"

"I'd kill him."

"He'd kill me."

Hawke looked away from the cluster of Wardens shepherding demons across the fortress. It was bustling. They had managed to get close, even if they had yet to catch sight of either Erimond or Clarel. It didn't matter. Hawke was certain they were here. They were the ones behind all of this, after all.

Fenris was looking at him, and Stroud's face turned to one of irritated disgust. "You _say_ that."

"We settled that a long time ago," Hawke said, and looked back to the Wardens.

They had. You had to kind of have contingency plans when you were a mage, especially in these times.

"You'd kill him? Just like that?" Stroud asked critically of Fenris. "You love him-"

"Which is precisely why I would do it," Fenris interrupted. "It would not be Hawke. It would be a demon with Hawke's face, and he would be held against his will if not dead. He does not deserve that fate."

"And you would be able to do that?" Stroud countered. "Just like that, you would be able to strike down the man you have made love to, wake up to every morning, have lived your life with?"

"Hopefully, it never comes to that," Hawke interrupted, straightening up.

Stroud looked at him, and ducked his head in acknowledgment. "Of course. We are here to put an end to it, after all."

"An end to it _for now_ ," Fenris said, and returned to Hawke's side.

"For now... yeah." Hawke pushed away from the brush and gestured to the path. "If we stay here for too long, the Inquisition's going to be waiting that much longer for us to get back. We should start moving before nightfall again."

"You're right... The sooner we get back to Skyhold, the sooner we can lay siege. We're going to need an army to infiltrate this fortress..."

"Good thing Cullen's got them in his hands."

"It still may take a miracle," Fenris muttered.

"Well, hopefully the Inquisitor's got some of those up his sleeves, too."

"We will do this," Stroud declared. "We _have_ to."

"Yeah, not like there's anyone else who can stop the end of the world. I don't know why I signed up for this job," he joked. "There's no paid time-off and the benefits are horrendous."

Fenris huffed a little laugh and turned away, beginning to traipse his way back towards where Skyhold was awaiting. Hawke fell into step beside him and Stroud beside him. They must have looked like a strange trio. Wouldn't be the first time. Merry band of misfits...

"Have you gone back to Kirkwall, Hawke?"

Hawke startled back to reality, looking at the Warden. "No. Well, not since the last time we spoke. Did you ever find out any more about the red lyrium?"

"No. We know what it is and what it does, but where it comes from?" Stroud shook his head. "You've seen the red templars just as much as I have. The effects are there, but the source has eluded me. It's presence over Thedas is good news for no one."

"Have you heard it?"

Stroud sighed. "Yes."

Fenris looked at him sharply. "You've been around it often enough to _hear_ its song?"

"You don't need to be around it very long to hear it," Stroud said. "You have not heard it?"

"No."

"Hawke?"

The big question. He sighed softly. "Yes," he admitted, and did not look at Fenris when the elf gaped at him. "Not... not the song, really. It's just more of a feeling. Crawling on your skin. Whispers in the air. Maybe it's because I'm a mage, I don't know. I'm sure if I stayed around it for longer, it would really effect me."

" _Hawke_."

"Sorry, sorry! I meant to tell you, it, just, well, it doesn't come up at dinner very well."

"I thought we _didn't_ keep secrets."

"I keep secrets all the time," Hawke joked. "How else would I surprise you on our anniversary?"

"This is red lyrium, this is not a joke. This is part of the reason you wanted me to stay behind, and _you_ can hear it. Maybe _you_ should have stayed."

"It's _fine_ , Fenris, like I said, it's just more of a _feeling_ , like the air is different or someone's trying to talk to me. I don't know, it's not a song. It's not what Bartrand was hearing."

"What you're hearing is probably how it started for him!"

Stroud cleared his throat. "Should I go on ahead...?"

"No!"

"Yes!"

"Don't leave me alone with him." Hawke was only half serious. He still clung onto Stroud's shoulder so he didn't go ahead of them. He really didn't want to have this conversation.

"We can have this conversation with him here, then."

"I think I'm going to go ahead."

"Oh, thanks a lot!"

Hawke glared at the back of Stroud's head as the Warden went on ahead. What a way to stand up for a brother. (Although his own brother probably would have done the same.) "Look, Fenris-"

"We _don't_ keep secrets," Fenris said determinedly. "Not about this, Hawke, you _promised_."

"If it got worse, I would have told you. But I swear it's just whispers, it's not... the full effects. So long as I don't spend so much time around it, I should be fine." Hawke hoped the peace offering was working, even if Fenris was still scowling up at him. "I'll be careful, Fen, I promise. If rocks start singing to me, I swear I'll tell you."

"Half truths are lies."

"I know, I'm sorry." Hawke breathed in slowly and closed his eyes. He really couldn't make everything into a joke. He knew that. And yet he tried to. It was... a coping mechanism. A shitty one. "Really. Sorry," he said softly, as he looked at Fenris again.

Fenris's glare softened. If only just. He puffed out a breath and looked away, down at his bare feet sinking into the sand as they walked. "I worry that one of these days I won't be able to forgive you."

"I'm trying not to do anything so bad so you don't have to worry about that. I just don't want to.. yeah, worry you."

"It never works."

Hawke rubbed at the back of his head, sweeping the sand from his hair. "I'm really bad at this, you know?"

"I may have noticed." Fenris crossed his arms. "I am not any better at this than you are. I may know _less_ than you do," he said, "but I am... trying. To be open. About things that I was taught not to be. Including you. And our relationship. And being _honest_. A fundamental part of a relationship, is it not?"

"Oh, Maker." _He's so much more better suited to this than I am._ "D'you ever feel like we should be in our teens and not our thirties, by the way we still manage to do everything wrong?"

"I am not certain age has to do with it."

"Knowing me, probably not." Hawke sighed. "It's just that telling you everything makes you worry and I don't want to make you worry, so I don't sometimes. I know it's not a good thing. I _try_ to tell you things, if that helps. It just seems to... not happen sometimes."

"It is better to share the worry than to take it all for yourself."

"Maybe. Yeah, I mean, I know."

Fenris was silent for a moment, eyes narrowed towards the ground. He was thinking. Hawke waited. The elf held up a hand, fingers flexing into a fist. "I told you what my lyrium will do to me."

Hawke's stomach dropped out at the reminder of that conversation a couple of years ago. No, no, no, not that, not that reminder, not now.

The discussion was suddenly unimportant; _physical_ pain spiked up his nerve endings and sent his legs from out from under him. He didn't know where the attack had come from, but a curse from Fenris and a quick glance at his own injury proved that someone had just shot him with an arrow.

Probably archers, actually.

"Hawke?"

"Go, I'm fine!" Hawke grabbed the arrow and jerked it free, teeth biting into skin to stop himself from yelling out loud. Stupidly unwise; they had let their guard down. He cast up a barrier around himself and Fenris, and planned to push himself to his feet.

He got only halfway before his leg crumbled, and a quick maneuver from Fenris only eased his fall back to the ground.

"Stay down," the elf commanded, unceremoniously dumping him behind an abandoned wagon.

"I can help, give me a sec." Just needed to heal, if he could focus enough through the pain. Maker's breath, how did arrows _hurt_ so bad? They were little! Tiny! Sharp and deadly and-

"Stay _there_ ," Fenris repeated, and whipped around to the other side of the wagon to fight the bandits with Stroud.

Hawke watched him vanish with a sort of reckless dread. Focus, Hawke, focus. If you can argue, you can summon your magic. He needed to be out there with Fenris...

Fenris, who was cutting through the lines of bandits with Stroud as though they were nothing, paper dolls to be cut down by a blade. The elf expertly cut in and darted out of battle, taking down one, two, three, pausing for a moment's breath to cast a glance to where Hawke watched through the broken wagon, before winding back into the fight. He looked like some sort of synchronized fighter, like a dancer moving effortlessly across the floor.

Hawke was having a difficult time with the healing spell, managing it in bits and increments. He felt tired, woozy, and that was a lot of blood staining the sand. Was it a lot? Maybe it just looked like a lot. Maybe there had been poison on the arrow.

Fenris leapt over the wagon, landing lightly. "Reinforcements," he announced, and crouched down next to Hawke for protection. "There's too many."

Hawke tried to sit up. "I can help, I can... throw rocks or something!"

"Rocks?" Fenris retorted, but Stroud crashed in next to them a breath later, looking harried.

"We cannot run. It's too open. We'd be taken down before we made it ten steps."

"You can't fight this on your own," Hawke said, putting more energy into healing himself.

Fenris swatted at his hands. "And you can't fight now even if you heal yourself," he said, matter-of-factly. "Stay awake. That will be enough."

"That's not enough, that's nothing, I need to help."

"Well, we need to do _something_ ," Stroud said, "and quickly."

Fenris glanced back at the fray, and tightened his grip on his blade. Hawke couldn't tell, because his gauntlets blocked it out, but he imagine Fenris was white-knuckling it, by the worry lines on his forehead. "Go left." He spoke lowly, and succinctly. "Take out the closest ones and regroup here when you need a moment. We need to keep them at a distance. The warriors will hit harder if they converge on us."

Stroud nodded. "I agree. Let us go."

Fenris rummaged in their bag, and pressed a potion bottle into Hawke's hand. "Drink that. Do not fall asleep."

"Fenris, don't-" _don't go out there again, don't make me sit here and watch whatever's going to happen please_

But Fenris had already gone, and Hawke cursed weakly, screwing the lid off the bottle and drinking it down. Healing magic was good for nothing when you were too woozy from blood loss and exhaustion to actually cast it.

The earth-shattering cry that split through the air brought Hawke back to reality quicker than anything else. It cleared away the shadows from his vision, and his hands flew to his ears. Wait, wait, he knew that sound.

"A drago..."

A fireball exploded in a flash of light, sending up heat and sand and flickering flames.

"Fenris..."

"Hawke!" _Oh, thank the Maker._

"I'm fine!" he yelled back, as Fenris scrambled in next to him. "Stroud?"

"Right here." The Warden rushed into view. "The dragon took care of the bandits, but I think it'd like to take care of us, too!"

"Let's just... hold... really still," Hawke suggested. "Maybe it'll think we're dead."

"That is _not_ funny," Fenris said, voice clipped. He looked primed to grab Hawke and run, if that were an option. It wasn't.

"It doesn't seem to be circling back."

"We need to get out of here."

Hawke blew out a breath and focused anything, hand over the wound in his leg. One further burst of magical power and he could gingerly press his fingers were the gaping hole had been. There. Healed. Lots of good it did when the world was swimming.

"Hawke?"

"I need to sleep," he muttered, and missed the way Fenris's eyes widened as he closed his eyes. Just a cat nap. He couldn't go anywhere like this.

"No!" Fenris's hand grabbed at his shoulder. "Hawke. Open your eyes. Hawke."

"Stop shaking me, Fen." Hawke slumped down a little. "I'm healed, I just... lotta blood."

"He's right," Stroud said slowly. "There is nothing more we can do, and he needs to recover. I'll go see if there's somewhere sheltered nearby. Will you be alright on your own?"

"If the bandits come back, none of us may be safe." Fenris sounded hollow. "Find me somewhere to bring him."

"'m okay, Fen," Hawke murmured, groping for his hand. Fenris took it, the cold bite of armor pressing against his skin. "Promise."

Fenris said nothing - he never had been one for idle words - and Hawke drifted off to the sound of the wind and the sand rushing up against them.

"It could have been you."

Fenris glanced up from repacking their things. "What could have been?"

Hawke pointed to his leg (he was healed, and he was back to himself, and they were heading off from the tiny cave they had been staying in). "It could have been you. Or you could have gotten overpowered in battle. Or killed by the dragon."

"I didn't."

"But you could have!" Hawke retorted. "That's the point, that's the _whole reason_ I didn't want you to come in the first place. If you got hurt-"

" _You_ got hurt."

"I don't care, if you'd have gotten hurt because I let you come-"

" _Let_ me come?"

"- then what would have I done?!"

"The same thing I did, I expect."

"I can't live with myself if something happens to you, because of _me_!" Hawke said doggedly, and that was the point, the whole reason, like he had said, that Fenris shouldn't have come along, shouldn't have fought in his place.

Fenris sniffed, fixing his bag and throwing it over his shoulder. "You're being _selfish,_ " he said bluntly, and shoved past him.

Hawke almost wobbled, but spun around quickly enough to grab his shoulder. "How am I being selfish in wanting to keep you safe?"

Fenris shrugged off his hand. " _I_ want you safe, too. It is not a one way street, Hawke." He had stopped where he stood, but he did not look back at Hawke as he spoke. "Do not speak of what could have happened to me when I had to sit through what happened to you."

His hand fell back to his side. The anger was slipping away. It was... he _was_ being unfair. "... Sorry." He unstuck his tongue from the roof of his mouth. "I'm sorry, I know. I didn't want you to go through that, either, trust me. I don't want either of us to go through it. The thought of losing you just... terrifies me, every day. Even now I just think if you had gotten hurt trying to protect me..."

"And I think the same thing every day. Do not pretend that I don't. I may not _say_ it or _show_ it like you do, I spent a lifetime conditioned not to, but I-"

"I know," Hawke interrupted. "I know, I'm sorry. I... I'm sorry for worrying you, too," he said softly, and took Fenris's shoulders relaxing as a sign he was clear to put his arms around him. "But I'm okay, okay? And you're okay. And that's..." he trailed off, struggling for words.

"... Okay?" Fenris asked dryly, tipping his head back against Hawke's chest for a moment.

Hawke smiled. "Yeah. It's good. Let's keep it that way."

Fenris nodded. "Yes," he said strongly, and then took a step forward. "We should move on, if you are truly fine."

"Fit as a fiddle. Well, more or less." Hawke reached for his hand tentatively, and silently breathed a sigh of relief when Fenris held onto it. "No lies, I promise."

"Good," Fenris replied.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did my tags say Healthy Relationship? AHAHAHAHA. No, they do have a healthy relationship, but they have disagreements just like everyone else. Hawke has lived his life one way; Fenris had been conditioned towards another. It's a lot of work and clearly, they're still working on it. And fear. Fear does a thing to people.
> 
> Also - there's over 100 kudos now??? wut. guys. you. over hundred?? Thank you?? T_T I hope it continues to lives up to expectation!


	10. Chapter Nine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Varric's amazing story-telling failed to mention the dragon was an Archdemon. 
> 
> Oh, and baths. Baths are good.
> 
> AKA - welcome back to Skyhold.

"Do you think the Inquisitor will have everyone at the ready when we return?"

"I'm not sure." Hawke contemplated. "We're going to be at a march instead of horseback, so it's going to take even longer to get back to Adamant, and who knows how many more Wardens will be sacrificed in the meantime... we might have a day or two of down time. Of course, this is just basing off of me, the Inquisitor seems like he's got probably more of a level head. And also how long it takes Cullen to get his troops ready."

"Hmm."

"Ready to head back already?"

"Yes," Fenris replied immediately, the ever present determination in his voice. But he paused, and then continued, a little more thoughtfully, "but a bath would be nice."

"Think we'll ever get the sand out of our trousers?"

A shrug. "With any luck."

"I never want to go back to the desert again after this."

"A stay in the Exalted Plains?" Fenris asked, and Hawke nodded.

"Yeah, definitely. And then... Lothering."

Fenris's chin rested up against Hawke's shoulder. "You are certain?"

"Yeah." A little pause. "Well, I will be, by the time we get the free time to go there. I promise."

"At your own pace."

"Yeah. You too."

"Every day."

　

 

"There's a lot. And that's not a sarcastic ‘a lot’. I haven't seen that many soldiers since... well, I don't know, a long time."

"There may be a lot, but we have some of the finest men I've seen in a long time, too. If they hit us hard, we'll just hit them harder."

"Which sounds like a _great_ plan," Hawke said, "but you're going to need a sound tactic. Storming the battlements will only get us so much time, but if it _is_ time that you need, it works."

"We need to get the Inquisitor inside, and clear the way so that he can find the Wardens and Clarel."

"And what of the dragon?" Fenris asked, succinctly slipping into the conversation, and all three of the advisors looked at him and then each other.

Hawke quirked an eyebrow. "I'm guessing ‘dragon’ means more to you than just, you know, _dragon_."

"Corypheus has a dragon," Cullen explained. "It behaves like an Archdemon."

"Oh. Fantastic!"

"There are also reported sightings of a dragon in the Western Approach," Josephine said. "It could be a coincidence."

"Is it _ever_ a coincidence?" Leliana asked, and Hawke agreed, but said nothing. Fenris was standing off to the side, injecting thought into the conversation now and again, but mostly staying silent as he watched. Now Hawke was watching him start to wilt - even if Fenris would never admit to being tired or bored in the face of a council meeting - and Hawke was feeling the same. Hungry. Tired. Wondering if he'd get the sand out of the crack of his ass in this lifetime.

"We'll leave you to it," he said to the advisors. "Just let us know where we need to be. We'll be there."

"Thank you, Hawke. You have been invaluable. You, too, Fenris."

"Oh, you know us. World shattering trauma on its way? Just call us, we'll take care of it," Hawke replied.

For a moment, Cullen looked as though he wanted to laugh. Unsurprisingly, he did not. "We appreciate it. All of us."

" _There_ you guys are!" Varric was bustling at them from the moment they stepped out of the war room.

Hawke spread his arms. "Here we are. Finally back."

"Everything go okay? Stroud said Hawke got banged up pretty bad." Varric's eyes swept over the mage, concern crinkling the corners of them.

"I took care of it. Predictably, he ran aground of danger," Fenris said, deadpan, but the slightest lifting of the corner of his mouth said he was glad to be in familiar territory once again. Good that they could joke about that now. Weeks ago, and it had been terrifying for both of them and Hawke didn't want to think about it.

"Typical Hawke. Just another day in the life, right?" And the way the dwarf's eyes crinkled in gentle teasing reminded Hawke of the days when Varric had first found out about his and Fenris's relationship, and Hawke grinned loftily, shoving his thumbs into his belt loops.

"We had a few issues, but we made it," he said. "We tracked Erimond back to Adamant Fortress. They're looking at assault options in the war room now."

Varric nodded thoughtfully, casting his gaze from Hawke and Fenris to the large wooden doors at the end of the hall. "That's good... anything we can do to get out of _this_ mess would be an improvement. Shit." He ran his hands across his face and looked up. "Did I ever thank you for coming?"

Hawke shrugged. "People have. But it's not just me. Look at you. You're doing pretty good yourself. The Inquisitor is... just who we need."

"Oh, it's been great. Murderous Wardens, Archdemon attacks, plenty of blood mages, and crazy templars. Just like home."

Hawke snorted softly, while Fenris asked "is it?"

"It's got all the craziness, but none of the appeal."

 _Agreed._ "I know how much you hated leaving Kirkwall."

"Me? What about you two? At least I can go back. You two are still being chased around with flaming sticks!"

"Not _too_ much anymore. Besides, flaming sticks aren't a big deal. We've handled worse." Hawke grinned sideways at Fenris, and relished in the content smile he got from his elven companion.

Okay, maybe a little like home.

"Yeah? That's good," Varric said. "I mean, this is _really_ the ass end of Thedas. You know they eat _snails_ here?"

"Please tell me you're joking."

"I wish I was." Varric sighed. Slumped back against the wall. He looked too defeated for Varric Tethras. Then again, they all did, nowadays. "Still, I think... I think I need to finish this out. If it weren't for me and Bartrand, none of this would have happened. So much for changing our lives."

"That's what happens when you try to change things," Hawke replied. "Things change."

Now it was Fenris's turn to scoff. "Eloquent."

"I'm just _saying_ ," Hawke pushed forward, "things change and you can't always control _how_."

"Sometimes you can."

"Well, yeah. And the other times you just gotta pick yourself up and fight to fix what went wrong," Hawke said.

Fenris nodded.

"A sense of _responsibility_ ," Varric grumbled. "I hate it. Take it away with you when you go, Hawke, I really don't need it. I just want to write my books and be under some sort of illusion of happiness."

"Yeah, don't we all?" Hawke laughed. "Speaking of books, have you written any more on _Swords & Shi_-" He broke off as Fenris's hand slipped into his own and looked down at their entwined fingers, and then back at Varric. "You know what, I'll ask later."

"You read my romance serial? _Seriously_? I wouldn't think you of all people would need it," Varric prodded, grinning in Fenris's direction. "Glowing boyfriend case in point."

"We need a bath," Fenris announced, and then added, with narrowing eyes, "If either of you are about to give voice to a pun, I would advise against it".

Hawke held up his free hand. "What can you say to that? We'll talk to you later, Varric."

"Have fun, kiddos."

Fenris all but pulled him away from the war room, and all but nearly walked smack into the Inquisitor. _Maker_ , were these people just waiting outside the door to ambush them at every turn? It was just, Fenris didn't look so tired any more, just sort of _intent_ now, and by the Maker, Hawke knew that look.

"Hawke, Fenris, welcome back."

"Inquisitor," Hawke greeted, pretended he didn't notice Fenris's little scowl and the way the elf's fingers tightened around his. "We tracked Erimond to Adamant. Your specialists have my full report," he said, and if his words came out a little breathless, well.

And the Dalish Inquisitor, the intelligent man, took one look at their conjoined hands, raised a singular eyebrow, and said "I'll go talk to them now". And that was that.

Almost.

"Oh. If you're looking for a bath, feel free to use the one in my private quarters. It's made of stone and everything. Dorian and I are going to be out tonight, and I'm sure you two could make use of it. After the Approach and all."

Hawke and Fenris shared a look.

"Just leave something on the door," the Inquisitor continued, and then continued to the war room.

"Do we...?" Hawke asked slowly.

"It sounds better than my plan."

"What was your plan?"

"Unimportant." Fenris pulled Hawke into the main hall.

"I haven't had a proper bath in _ages_."

"Is that all you're excited about?"

"Oh, I'm excited about plenty."

"Good."

Waiting for the water was the worst, but it gave them time to get out of their armor and strip down to their smalls. Hawke hoped the Inquisitor knew what he was getting into, letting them use the personal bath. There was _at least_ half of the Western Approach's supply of sand on the floor already.

But soon the room was steaming, the small far window fogged up. Hawke felt sleepy and soft, leaning with his hands braced against the wall as they waited for the servant to leave. He could sleep right here, if it weren't for the hungry eyes staring him down from across the room. Fenris, shoulder propped against the open doorway, arms over his bare chest. His namesake made sense, in that moment. There were a few moments where that happened. Hawke loved all of them.

"So what brought this on, anyway?"

"Am I not permitted?"

" _More_ than permitted."

"There is your answer." Fenris was too invested in selecting a bar of soap, and Hawke raised his eyebrows at the perfect picture of Fenris's ass beneath those hideous small clothes. On purpose. An answer, indeed.

But Fenris was in charge here, and Hawke folded his hands behind his back, and pretended like he wasn't interested in the proceedings. Like he hadn't been, or anything. Nuh uh, no way.

"In." Fenris flicked his fingers towards the bath.

"Oh, sure. Your command is my wish."

"That is not what they say, Hawke."

"It could be." Hawke groaned low in the back of his throat as he sank waist deep in the steaming water. "Oh, _Maker_."

Fenris looked around at him. "Yes?"

"Hot. Amazing. I miss the bath in my estate." He sank down lower. The tub was large enough to fit both of them comfortably even being sprawled out. The heat was already pummeling at the aches and pains in his body, and he glanced up from that small bliss only in time to see Fenris shimmy out of his remaining clothes. "Oh, Maker," he repeated.

Fenris's smile was no longer fleeting, but a permanent fixture as he sank into the water. He straddled Hawke's hips effortlessly, cupped hands sinking beneath the water's surface before he let the hot water trickle through his fingers onto Hawke's exposed chest. Hawke jerked, the fragment of a memory snapping into his mind, dark rooms and dripping candles and like a _snap of the fingers_ , he was instantly hard.

"You are incorrigible," Fenris said, and his hand dipped beneath the hot water to wrap around the mage's cock.

" _You_ started it." Hawke had enough mind to be snarky, if only just. He let his head fall back against the side of the bath for a moment before looking back at the elf, offering up a little smile. "You started it."

"I intend to finish it."

"Oh fuck."

"I _intend to_."

Hawke would have choked out a laugh had Fenris not leaned over to capture his mouth. He thought he might have anyway, vibrations that had to shudder through Fenris's lips before Fenris deepened it, hand tangling into Hawke's dark hair. Hawke found the will to move his heavy arms, hands drawing along Fenris's hips, tucking under his backside. He would pull him closer if they were not already so close to each other already; he could drown in the heat from the steam, from Fenris's breath against his lips, the glowing touch illuminating the water around his cock.

"You're glowing," he forced out between kisses.

"Yes." Fenris's hand was slow and languishing, and Hawke hated it, Maker, he _hated_ it, _why_ did he love it? Screw him, _screw_ him, _teasing_ him.

Hawke didn't realize he was moaning until Fenris expertly plunged his tongue into his mouth. Hawke retorted with a nip and Fenris with a bite that had to draw blood, _had_ to, by the sting and the gasp and Hawke dug his nails into Fenris's ass and held on as though his life depended on it. He would not let him. He would _not_ let him go.

The elf's lips darted away from Hawke's, down his jaw to his neck. He latched onto his collarbone, sucking hard, once, twice. Teeth grazed against his skin again. Hawke caught a handful of Fenris's hair between his fingers and _tugged_. He wanted his lips, he wanted his mouth.

The sharp slap of Fenris's palm coming down across Hawke's wrist sounded too loud in the bathroom. The swat didn't hurt, but it served its purpose; Hawke relented to Fenris's design again, it was just hard to _wait_.

"It's my turn," Fenris said sternly. "Have your way later."

 _Later?_ Hawke felt dizzy with lust, with overwhelming happiness. "I kind of feel like I'm having my way now-" Fenris's agonizingly slow pace stopped and Hawke groaned as the elf sat back. "Fenris, _please_."

"Watch."

Hawke shifted uncomfortably, too energized, twitchy. His erection was bobbing uselessly against his stomach. He wanted to reach and finish himself off, if he knew he wouldn't get chastised for that, too. Then again, maybe punishment was just what he needed. He tried not to grin. He was certain he failed.

Fenris leaned back against his side of the bath, elbows propped on the side. And he took his own cock in hand and started to pump. Nothing like the teasing he had been putting Hawke through. This was fast and concise; the point was clearly to arrive to the end as soon as possible, all the while watching Hawke through heavy eyes.

 _Jealous_.

" _Fenris_ ," Hawke groaned, fingers seizing white around the edge of the tub.

"Hawke," Fenris rasped out. His _voice_ \- "Hawke. _Garrett._ "

" _Fuck._ "

Fenris said nothing in response, save for the series of noises that came as the lithe body stiffened, back arching into the steam around them. He was unabashedly vocal as he came, wanton and needy and stupidly beautiful and he was his, he was _his_ , his best friend, his lover, _his_.

Hawke's teeth dug into his knuckles to muffle his shout as his own orgasm rattled through him. _Oh_. Fen hadn't even gotten back to him yet. Fuck. "Whoops~" he chirped, smiling abashedly at Fenris.

Fenris rolled his eyes, but that _smirk_. "Well done, Hawke."

"You're too gorgeous for your own good." Hawke reached out his hand, and Fenris pressed into his touch.

"Or when I call you by your given name," Fenris said, leaning up against Hawke's chest.

"There is that."

"Garrett," Fenris said. _Purred_.

A shudder crawled up Hawke's spine, and he crushed Fenris close. "Don't."

"Very well," Fenris hummed, tucking his head into Hawke's neck.

Hawke huffed softly, drawing his fingers through the wet strands of Fenris's hair trailing in the bath water. It was frustratingly sexy when Fen went and did that. Hawke encouraged him because, of course, _he loved it_ , but. Damn was it frustrating... _and_ it also made him go off way too soon and how was he supposed to enjoy it if Fenris just _breathed_ and that was enough? (Don't get him wrong he loved it.)

"I'll give you five minutes," Fenris whispered and planted a grinning kiss against Hawke's sweaty neck.

 


	11. Chapter Ten

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The battle begins.

"We cannot stay here, Hawke."

Hawke yawned into the dark silk sheets. "Why not?" It was effort to talk, and he could expend none further. His words came out garbled, but Fenris understood, anyway.

"The Inquisitor did not offer his bed for the night," he explained, patiently. How was he not dead to the world like Hawke?

Hawke groaned and forced his heavy eyelids open, turning his head. "I'm pretty sure he didn't offer us his bed at all, but here we are." He gestured vaguely to the top sheet spilling across Fenris's bare skin. "Didn't offer the desk, either." An afterthought. There was good reason Fenris wasn't as dog tired as Hawke was.

That smile on Fenris's face definitely part of the reason, part of the reason Hawke had a darkening bruise against his shoulder from banging it against the aforementioned desk, part of the reason he was so wrung out and flopped face-first into the Inquisitor's bed. That _smile_.

Hawke gave a half smile and let his eyelids flutter shut again. He reached out blindly for the elf, got his nose on first try and snickered about it until Fenris took his hand and moved it to his cheek.

"Hawke."

"Oh, _fine_." He yawned and pulled his hand away from Fenris, rolling over onto his back. "I could literally sleep for a year."

"After we are home, perhaps." Fenris slipped out from beneath the sheets, padding to their clothing - newly cleaned, although Hawke didn't know when it had happened. The servants must have taken them during their bath. He hadn't noticed. He'd been occupied.

Occupied by things like the way Fenris's pert ass was in full view again, _again,_ and Hawke was inexplicably drawn up to his elbows for a better look. Because _always_. "Yeah."

Fenris glanced over his shoulder. "I thought you were worn out."

Hawke sighed regretfully. "I am." Contemplated for a second. "I could probably go again. I really need a nap, but after that, I'll be good to go for sure."

Fenris laughed softly, pitching the neatly folded pile of clothing to Hawke. It was almost similar to his old finery, but not quite. That twinge of pain longing for Kirkwall never did go away. "Perhaps later."

"I'll pay you back, I swear. Later." Hawke struggled into the tunic that felt nothing like the cool press of the Inquisitor's sheets. "Oh, my shoulder _already_ hurts like a..." he trailed off, grumbling.

The gentle laughter turned to concern, the elf clearing the distance between them. "Are you certain you are okay?" Fingers brushed against the off coloured bruise, applying no pressure except a whisper of skin on skin.

"Injuries sustained in the best kind of way," Hawke said, reaching up to take Fenris's hand. "Don't worry, I'll be fine." He pressed a kiss to the center of the elf's dark palm.

Fenris shifted, skin glowing on the highest points of his cheekbones. It wasn't the first time he'd blushed tonight, but it was for the most innocent reason so far. "Hawke."

"I love you."

The nearly imperceptible twitch, the miniscule tightening of the eyes. Fenris had never explained why the words were so... so... _so much_ , especially when they were said _to_ him, and Hawke had never asked. Just as Hawke never asked him to say it return. He never needed him to. It was unspoken, but Hawke _was_ the one prone to more outrageous displays of affection, so he didn't mind saying it and not hearing it in return. Sometimes Fenris said it first, and that seemed to make it more tolerable. Whatever made Fenris comfortable, made him comfortable.

So Fenris lacked words.

He made up for them. He stooped, planting a kiss against the mage's cheek. And he lingered for longer than necessary, hair falling into his face, breath soft against his skin. It was entirely different to their kisses in the bath and Hawke smiled, sleepy and content.

Really, Fenris spoke words better than Hawke, sometimes.

The elf pulled away slowly, seeming unwilling to part. "We should return to our own quarters."

Hawke nodded dutifully, grabbing the trousers from the bed. "The Inquisitor and Dorian will probably be back soon." He didn't know how much time had passed, but dusk was spreading across Skyhold, straining to chase away the daylight from the fortress. Hawke regarded the windows for a moment before slipping out of bed to pull his pants up. "Just one more battle. And then maybe we can vanish for another four years."

"Hm. Maybe longer."

"Maybe," Hawke agreed. He would not be complaining. "You want your hair up?"

"Probably."

"Where's the- oh." He snatched up the ribbon and fixed Fenris's shirt, lazily pulling the silver hair back into a ponytail.

"I was thinking of cutting it."

"What?"

"My hair," Fenris explained. "It's gotten long." He was quiet for a moment, a moment in which Hawke had learned that his contemplative silence meant more was coming. It did. "Danarius always made me wear it long."

Hawke's fingers stilled. "You never told me that."

A shrugged shoulder. "As if the collar was not insult enough, the longer my hair was grown, the easier he could grab ahold of me when I was needed. It could function as a leash when there was none. I cut it when I ran away, after the Fog Warriors. It was the first thing I did, actually."

He had to remove his hands from Fenris's hair so that he didn't jerk on the strands as his fingers curled into fists. He hadn't known that. It had been _years_ , even years since they had been living on their own, and he had never known that.

"It was never so easy to escape the reminder of Danarius, however," Fenris muttered. "As I found out. At first, it was a way of cutting my ties with him. After that, it simply become an inconvenience to have long in the midst of battle, so I kept it short."

Hawke frowned. "So why grow it long now? I mean, if you..."

"If I wanted it short, I would have it short," Fenris interrupted. "You seemed to express some interest with it being longer, I noticed."

"I also expressed interest in shaving my face, once." He had. Fenris had helped. It had been a disaster. "We know how that ended up."

Fenris's lips twitched. "I _was_ glad when it grew back."

"Me, too. Wait, are you talking about my beard or your hair?"

Fenris shrugged again. "Perhaps both." He went to collect the last of their things, while Hawke dithered in the middle of the carpet.

"Fen, if you want to cut your hair-"

"If I want to cut my hair, I will cut it." Blunt, to the point, an interruption again. Hawke blew out a breath of relief that Fenris could make those decisions for himself. He did like his long hair, but he liked his happiness better. "I suppose we will see where the battle of Adamant takes us afterwards," the elf continued. "Although I must admit... there is something pleasant about replacing bad connotations with good ones."

"Yeah?"

"Like your fingers dragging through my hair, or when you braid it, or wash it. Some of those things are more difficult with shorter hair." He held out a weathered scrap of red silk. "So long as it is you."

Hawke smiled. "I'm glad," he said, and took the fabric from Fenris, tying it around the elf's wrist in a motion so familiar that it was second nature, like breathing. It wasn't the same, what had he called it, a "favor", from years ago; that one had long since frayed and fallen into disarray. But it had almost become their type of tradition now, and Hawke replaced each band with a new one when the time came, and he tied it onto Fenris's wrist after their baths, over their armor when they went to battle, brushed his lips against it when Fenris was pressed up against him in bed and their dream was somehow real. "I'm here as long as you want me," he said, and tugged at the knot in the fabric.

Fenris surveyed it briefly and then let his arm fall. "You may regret those words," he said, a twinkle of coy humor in his eyes as he padded for the stairs.

"Not as long as I'm alive," Hawke replied, and strolled after him serenely.

　

 

The soldiers of the Inquisitor were terrified. They were young, inexperienced, and the fear was clear on their faces before they mashed their heads into their helmets for what may be the last time. But they were willing. They were willing, they trusted in their Inquisition with every fiber of their being. Cullen had trained them, and Hawke could think of no one better suited to teaching them. They would fight to their deaths and if those deaths happened today, then they would die with honor, pride. Too soon. But with a purpose. That helped. Right?

He looked down at Fenris. "Here we go again," he teased, pure bravado to cover up the fear before the fight. Because, here they went again. Just like before Kirkwall's final battle, and Hawke wanted to gather the elf in his arms and make him swear to be okay just like the last time. Instead, he grinned and bounced on his toes, and pretended that his hands weren't trembling a little.

"Yes," Fenris said, sounding fixated and empty and sour all at once. Maybe that was nerves. Hawke still didn't know how Fenris managed to stay so calm before a battle. The only time he'd seen him lose his cool was the fight with Danarius, and that had been anger. The fight at Kirkwall had been quiet desperation, perhaps, but fear? Never. Hawke never saw fear. He only ever saw strength.

"We're going to be fine," Hawke said. "This is going to be fun."

"Your definition of ‘fun’ seems to vary wildly from situation to situation." Fenris clenched his fingers, and dropped his arms to his sides. "Tell me again of Cullen's plan."

"The Inquisitor's going in that way." He gestured towards the main doors. "They're going to take the entrance and ensure passage into Adamant. Once in, it's up to us to clear the way. Some will be going with the Inquisitor, and some will be going with us through the battlements."

"Stroud is with them?"

Hawke nodded. "Yeah, he's going with them. It made more sense. He hopes to talk down any Wardens he finds along the way, and with the Inquisitor and Dorian, they already have two mages, so it's tactically sound to let me work on the battlements."

Fenris could have gone either way. He was the outlier, the one person who wasn't supposed to have come on the journey in the first place. Now Hawke couldn't imagine having left him behind; even with the constant worry that something would happen to him, at least Hawke could _watch_. He could see that the one person he needed to be safe was safe. And if it wasn't for Fenris, he really didn't know how he would have survived these few weeks. Months, he corrected. If he hadn't had someone there... he would have, what, shut down? Become despondent, focused only on the task at hand? The task at hand was too serious to focus on 24/7. He would have gone crazy if Fenris wasn't there to break the monotony, probably.

But Fenris _was_ here, and that was what mattered. Fenris was here, and Fenris had, perhaps unsurprisingly, chosen to stay with Hawke.

"If all things go well, we should be able to meet up with the Inquisitor and Stroud before we find Clarel. Well, that's _my_ plan, anyway. Cullen never said it specifically, but I don't plan on standing idly by."

"Good."

There was suddenly movement around them. Hawke looked into the fray and licked his lips, sucking in a breath to hold it. And then exhale. "We're on," he said. "Maker watch over us all." The last part he said quietly, to himself, to the deities he couldn't see. He believed, before, and he still believed now. He had to.

Fenris was mumbling something in Tevene, and Hawke was wisened enough to know it was also something similar to a prayer. Sebastian's influence had not been for nothing on Fenris and while he was not as devout as Hawke, he still believed, too. Hawke wanted to ask what he was asking for, the Maker's blessing or safety or to stop Clarel and end the Wardens. He didn't.

He adjusted his grip on the staff and started forward with the group. And then stopped, leaned down and grabbed Fenris's shoulder, and kissed him as hard as he could. All clumsy and messy and with too much emotion, while everyone marched on around them. No one said a word.

"These kisses feel like goodbye," Fenris said. He hit the obvious right on the nose. Hawke tried not to cringe.

"Let's make them feel like a beginning, then," he said, and pecked a butterfly kiss against the corner of his mouth. "Come on."

"I do love you, Hawke."

"I love you, too." Hawke smiled. "Now we gotta go kick some ass."

Fenris laughed slightly. "Yes. I am with you."

"Good! I can do anything as long as you're with me!"

"Doubtful."

"Wow, tell me that when we're walking into battle!" They were wasting time. He was stalling without even realizing it. "Come on," he said, after a moment, voice dropping. He could pretend that he wasn't terrified. He could pretend he was certain on their chances. He could pretend that this was just some bandits and a gnat rather than Grey Wardens and an Archdemon. He could pretend he didn't feel the nervous tension radiating off of Fenris, but it wasn't going to change the fact that they _were_ walking into battle. "Let's go."

　

 

They'd gotten separated.

Hawke tried to not let it bother him, but it had been hard enough going just getting up the battlements. They were met with resistance every step of the way, demons and men alike to stop their progress. Hawke had timed freezing spells just well enough to get them over the edge, and then it was all out combat. Spells flew like lightning through the air - with _actual_ lightning in the air - the clang of metal on metal and the screams of the men over the growl of the demons. Somewhere beneath them, the Inquisitor was being bustled towards the front, kept safe. Hawke's staff cracked down over the skull of a demon. They had to clear passage to keep the Inquisitor safe, and in doing that, they needed to clear the battlements.

He couldn't go looking for Fenris. Fenris could take care of himself. (He had to say it, he had to think it.)

Hawke cleared a gap between enemies and darted forward, magic exploding out around him. Friend and foe alike. This was like Kirkwall, only more... compressed. Hawke staggered back from the blow of a warrior's blade against his armor. He clamoured for purchase against the merlons, gauntlets slipping against the stone. _Too close_ to the edge, too close to falling to his death, he preferred the battle at Kirkwall, at least it had been on the _ground_.

A dagger sank into the man's exposed skull.

Hawke spun around, olive eyes framed with silver hair meeting his gaze. Fenris's hand was still raised from where he'd thrown the knife. Hawke waved. Fenris was too far away and vanished into the throng a moment later, and Hawke pushed on, muttering "wear a helmet next time, dumbass". Like he was one to talk.

Fenris was safe. Of course Fenris was safe. Fenris could take care of himself. (He started believing it more the more he thought it.)

Fenris would be fine. _Demon_. He would be fine. _Spellbinder._ THEY would be fine. One of their comrades had fallen nearby and Hawke jumped over the wreckage of rubble, stooping next to them. Healing magic wasn't going to help now.

"Tell the... Inquisi... sorry..."

Hawke reached forward, pulling the helmet from the soldier's face. Long, dark hair spilled from the helmet, down over tarnished spaulders and Hawke blinked in surprise. He was no stranger to women on the battlefield and somehow it startled him anyway. Maybe it was because her eyes were so _brown_.

They looked like Bethany's.

Hawke swallowed. Okay. He almost pushed himself back to his feet to keep moving, but he... No. He couldn't leave this girl to die alone. "How old are you?"

"... Fourteen."

Shit. Hawke fell onto his knees and his hands weren't just trembling as he gripped his kneecaps. "A little young, aren't you?"

"Wanted to... help... they were the only ones who..." she trailed off and coughed, a bloody mixture of saliva and crimson dribbling down her chin.

"Yeah," Hawke said softly. The end of the sentence didn't matter. The only ones who were there for her, accepted her, wanted her, helped her, loved her. It didn't matter. "We're all proud of you."

"A-Are you?"

"Yes, _Maker_ , yes, of course we are." Hawke scrubbed away a bit of the blood from the girl's face. The battle raged on around them, but Hawke could only hear his own breathing, not entirely even aware of the words tumbling from his mouth. "You've done so much. You shouldn't have had to live like this. But you _did_ , and you did so good. You helped. We love you so much. I'm _so_ sorry."

Those last words he caught and his stomach dropped when he realized it was getting too personal, he was getting too caught up in his memories, in those _eyes_. _Shit_.

The girl was barely breathing.

"Hey, Be- soldier." He gripped at her shoulder. "Soldier?"

She mumbled something that didn't make it into coherent words.

"It's okay. I'm right here. It's okay."

It wasn't. He was lying. He was helpless to do anything except kneel there and hold one of her hands until the girl stopped moving. It took no time at all.

One of the soldiers passing by paused for a moment. "That was kind," he said, offering his hand down to Hawke. Hawke ignored it, pushing himself back to his feet. He shouldered his staff, and swept up an abandoned claymore from the ground.

"It wasn't kind," he said, and started for the cluster of demons nearby. He didn't know he had a battle cry until suddenly, he did.

It wasn't _fair_.

Now was the time to be doing that. Lamenting. But it _wasn't_ fair, by Andraste's grace!

First his father, who had gotten so sick so fast. Hawke didn't even remember most of it. He'd been sick, too. He had lived and his father had died and Carver had seemed to think it was something that Hawke was to be blamed for. Leandra wasn't the same after that, although she tried. Hawke hadn't been on particularly great terms with his father, no. But he had taught him magic, he had kept them safe if not on the run, but they had been _together_ and he had been taken from them all.

And then Bethany. His precious Bethany. If he could go and rewind time and go back now, he would, just to protect her. If only he could forget her last words, a prayer in fear, shock, asking for protection before she was swept aside like a lifeless rag doll and Leandra had crashed down next to her and _sobbed_ and for the first time in three years Hawke had wanted to collapse to his knees and break into pieces, too. But he hadn't, because for the past three years he was the man of the house now - as much as Carver loathed him for it - and he had to keep it together. So he had urged them on, and choked back the hurt until he had time to breathe.

He never found the time.

And then Carver had charged into the Deep Roads with him, no matter how many times Leandra stood to the side and begged _not my sons, not both of my sons_. Hawke had agreed. _"Carver, you need to stay with Mother."_ And he hadn't. _"Don't tell me what to do, brother. I'm going."_ He had wanted to throttle him then, but they had needed to get on the move, and Hawke had just shook his head, told his mother they'd be fine, and followed Bartrand into the ancient thaig. And when Carver had collapsed, Hawke hadn't been surprised. He'd been... resigned. _Of course this would happen._ By a miracle, they had managed to find the Wardens and save him, and lo and behold if Carver seemed a little happier in the Wardens, but he was gone, for all purposes, just like Malcolm and Bethany.

And finally his mother. Just when Hawke had assumed that the worse had passed, when they had settled into a life that Hawke was proud to call his own. He should have _known_. He should have known what was coming, but he had let himself be swept away into the bliss of Deep Roads riches and the Hawke family name, and the next thing he knew, Gamlen was yelling at him about Leandra being missing, about lilies, and how the ice had built in Hawke's stomach as he went charging from the estate. For one wild moment, he believed that he could find her. He could find her, because he had to find her. She was the last one he had left. And he lost her anyway. He lost her, and gained the nightmares of stitched up skin and dead eyes staring at him, mumbling things that Hawke couldn't even remember. Those words had been her last words and Hawke couldn't _remember_ them. All he could remember was his mother dying in his arms, and he was _alone_.

Why did everybody have to die? Why did they all have to _die_? Even that girl, so young and innocent, plucked from whatever life she had come from. Had she been running from the war, from the Blight, from the templars, from the mages? In the wrong place? The wrong time? Had she chosen to fight or been conscripted? All of this death for someone's senseless, petty, _pathetic_ problems!

"Hawke, _Hawke_!"

A hand grabbed at his shoulder; he acted on instinct, swinging around with the sword. The crash of metal on metal went unheard over the activity around them, and his blade was whisked from his hands, clattering against the ramparts.

Fenris regarded him warily, blade still extended. It was acting more of a shield now that he had flung Hawke's claymore away, but he didn't lower it either way.

"I-" Hawke's voice cracked. He cleared his throat roughly, passing his hand across his face. He was covered in blood, and the demons were hacked to non-recognition at his feet. "Someone reminded me of Bethany," he said weakly.

Fenris lowered his sword slowly, although did not bother to sheath it as a group blew past them towards another section of the battlements. "The Inquisitor."

"Oh." There were more demons in the distance. The Inquisitor had made it to the battlements and was helping? He... should have gone straight for Clarel. His kindness would... it would hurt him so much eventually. Hawke scrubbed his palms against his trousers. He knew from experience, and he wouldn't wish this unexpected snapping and wild, reckless killing on anyone. _Fuck_ , he was ready to be done with all of this.

"Are we helping them?" Fenris questioned, looking back at Hawke.

But he was here now. And he _wouldn't_ wish this on anyone. And he _wouldn't_ abandon them. "Yeah." He swung his staff free. "I think I'll stick to magic this time. Much less messy," he said, glancing down at himself.

"Leave the sword work to me."

"You taught me sword work for a reason." Hawke sprinted down the walkway.

Fenris kept up with him easily. "I taught you with the hopes you would not need to use it."

"Magic is easier!"

"Maybe for you!" Fenris shouted, and they converged on the pride demon together.

The Inquisitor told him to protect his troops while he ran ahead, vanishing around the corner without waiting for a response. His companions followed dutifully, seeming uninjured, at least. That was something.

"Are you going to say ‘no’ next time someone asks for our help?" Fenris asked as they darted for the next level.

He knew what he was thinking. "Yes!" he gasped, and frowned when Fenris _smirked_ , of all things, just then. "What?"

"No, you won't."

"I don't know anymore, Fen. This is crazy! I don't know if I can keep doing this, I don't know if we can keep doing this."

" _I_ know you," Fenris replied. "You wouldn't be able to say ‘no’ if your life depended on it. You wouldn't be happy."

"I'm not exactly happy _now_!" But Fenris was... probably right. He'd said it before and he'd probably say it again: he was a glutton for punishment. He _hated_ this, the hate exemplified the longer he spent in a place like this, but he would hate inaction, too. He wondered where that left him. If only there were no tragedies for a decade or two, and maybe he would be able to sleep through the night without dreams or memories haunting beneath his eyelids. _Maybe_.

For now, they fought.

Even if they could do nothing else, they could fight, and so they did.


	12. Chapter Eleven

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The bridge crumbles, and the party falls.

The world was on fire.

"Get back!" Fenris yelled, and Hawke grabbed ahold of Cole's arm to pull the boy out of the spray of fire as the dragon appeared in one of the broken down parts of the fortress.

"Maker's _breath_ ," Cassandra swore, bloodied shield held aloft to fend off the heat.

" _Dragon's_ breath, more like," Dorian replied, and they all ran forward when the dragon had gone.

Between the Inquisitor and him and Stroud, they had managed to convince Clarel that what she was doing was wrong. Or maybe that had been the huge dragon that had come out of the sky. But Clarel had charged after Erimond, demanding the Wardens to help the Inquisition, and those that understood the order did.

It did little to help at this point.

Better late than never, he supposed. It didn't change how many people had died, but they would discuss it later.

"We're almost there! Everyone get ready!" the Inquisitor yelled, rounding up the stairs.

Oh, they were ready.

"You! You've destroyed the Grey Wardens!" Spells clashed against each other, lighting up the destroyed ramparts. If they killed each other, Hawke decided that it would have been fitting.

But Erimond just laughed. _Laughed_. "You did that to yourself, you stupid bitch. All I did was dangle a little power before your eyes, and you couldn't _wait_ to get your hands bloody!" he spat.

"Literally, in fact," Dorian muttered. The Inquisitor held up his hand and the mage fell silent; the party was in waiting and Fenris stood next to Hawke's side, watching just as intently as Clarel blasted Erimond away again, and the magister's body crumpled.

"You could have... served a new god..." Erimond choked out, snaking his arms around his head. "You could have..."

"I will _never_ serve the Blight!" Clarel growled.

Fenris had been distracted, and Hawke only noticed why when he uttered his name. "Hawke."

He didn't know how he hadn't heard the massive wingspan. "Clar-" he started, too late. The dragon swept her off of her feet - by her head, no less - and then sent her flying with a toss of its mighty head.

" _Vishante kaffas_."

"Be on your guard!"

"What do we do?"

The Inquisitor had electricity crackling at his fingertips. He said nothing, but the implication was clear. They wouldn't go down without a fight, and Hawke agreed, except... he glanced over his shoulder towards the end of the bridge. They had nowhere to run, and little space to fight in with something that _big_.

Still. They had to try.

The explosion of light and mana came not from any of their companions, but Clarel herself. Hawke had thought...

The dragon came crashing towards them. "Oh, _shit_ -" Hawke spun around and tackled Fenris out of the way. They went rolling in a tumble of armor and battle bloodied and bruised limbs, a little exhale of breath as the elf was crushed between Hawke and the rapports.

The bridge was crumbling. Hawke could hear the stones shifting and splinting away, the crumbling, cracking noise drawing up the hair on the back of his neck.

"Stroud!"

Hawke looked up, watching as the Inquisitor lunged forward to pull Stroud up from the edge. Cassandra was ahead of him, Cole was following suit, although they both paused at the cry, turning to assist if needed.

Fenris grabbed Hawke's hand and hauled him to his feet, shoving at his arm. " _Move_."

A good plan.

The Inquisitor and Stroud caught up with Dorian as they all ran for safety. It was too loud, too quick, they weren't going to-

Dorian's shout was acutely heartwrenching, and Hawke barely even knew Dorian _or_ the Inquisitor.

"The Inquisitor," Hawke breathed, spinning around to do what he could to help. It didn't matter. The Inquisitor vanished over the crumbling concrete. Stroud staggered and fell behind him and stable ground was suddenly whisked from Hawke's feet. There was no time to panic. Just enough time to make the realization that _this is it_. He snapped his head around to look for Fenris, reach out a hand to grab ahold of him, just one last time, he just wanted to hold him one last time, Maker, he loved him, this had been a stupid decision but at least they were together, they got to see each other one last time-

He was falling before Fenris could grab ahold of him, and he lost sight of him through the rubble and the green glow moments later.

　

 

He was floating. No. Yes? The ground was... to his three o' clock? What was- ow. Hawke dragged himself up from the ground, the version of the ground that wherever he was deemed to put his feet on. He hoped that gravity would realign itself, this was unsetting. Just as unsettling as trying to figure out where he was. Everything was dark and dank and had a strange green shine to it, and... was he dead?

There was a thud and Hawke flinched, whirling for his staff as he spun towards the noise. Silver hair all in a disarray as the lithe body pushed itself up, and "Fenris..." Hawke picked his way across the rocks to the elf as quickly as he could. "Fenris!"

"Hawke!"

He didn't know if he pulled Fenris in or Fenris slammed into him himself, but the crash of their bodies against each other's knocked the breath right out of Hawke. "Oh, _Maker_ , you're okay," he breathed, fingers twisting into his hair. "I thought... I..."

"Don't speak."

"Sorry, I'm sorry, I'm-"

" _Hawke_." Fenris's voice, muffled as it were into his neck, cracked out, thin and wavering.

Hawke hugged him tighter, swallowed down the lump in his throat. Okay, so he hadn't had time to panic before, but now the emotions were rolling in unchecked.

"What... happened?" a voice asked, a few yards away.

Hawke lifted his head. "Stroud?"

And there was Stroud, and the Inquisitor, and the rest of the party milling up from nearby, looking stunned and scared and uncertain. Fenris turned away from Hawke to press his fingers against his eyes briefly as Stroud spoke again.

"Where are we?"

Hawke took a deep breath. Didn't remove his arm from Fenris, and looked around. "We were falling. I remember. We were falling, and then... huh. If this is the afterlife, the Chantry owes me an apology. This looks nothing like the Maker's bosom."

Fenris made a choked noise that might had been a laugh.

"No... The Inquisitor used the mark to open another rift," Stroud said slowly, and then stopped, looking around at them all. "I believe we are in the Fade."

The Fade. They all seemed to be letting it sink in, the impossible notion of it happening even when they were apparently standing in the middle of it. Physically... _in_ the Fade. "The Fade... looked different the last time I was here," Hawke murmured, and ignored himself as he shivered.

"Yes," Dorian agreed. "The first time I entered the Fade, it looked like a lovely castle filled with gold and silks. I met a marvelous desire demon, as I recall. We chatted and ate grapes before he attempted to possess me." _That_ sounded like the Fade Hawke knew. "Perhaps the difference is that we are here physically," Dorian continued. "This is no one's dream."

"Or if it is, someone _really_ needs a ray of sunshine in their life," Hawke muttered, and Fenris elbowed him in the side. _Sorry, I have to cope somehow._ He looked over at the Inquisitor. "The stories say you walked out of the Fade at Haven. Was it like this?"

"I don't know." He sounded calm. Hawke figured it was an act. "I still can't remember what happened the last time I did this."

"Well, whatever happened at Haven, we can't assume we're safe now." Probably the farthest thing from it. "That huge demon was right on the other side of that rift Erimond was using, and there could be others."

"In our world, the rift the demons came through was nearby. Can we escape the same way?"

"I hope so," the Inquisitor muttered. "Let's go."

Cole was mumbling to himself and broke into speech loud enough for them all to hear, lamenting about being in the Fade. Hawke shared the sentiment, although Cole was panicking more visibly about it than Hawke could ever afford. It was probably different, when you were a spirit. Hawke fell back with Fenris as their companions tried to soothe the panicking spirit.

"Are you okay?"

"Fine," Fenris replied tersely. His hands had dropped away from Hawke minutes ago, but he was still standing just that inch closer than usual. "Are you?"

"Yeah. I mean, except that we're _physically_ in _the Fade_ , that kind of puts a damper on things."

"I never wanted to come back here," Fenris hissed, hands tightening at his sides. "Never again."

The last time he had entered the Fade with Fenris had been that oh so charming time that his closest friends had been tempted by demons. That time _Fenris_ had been tricked by a demon who promised him the ability to walk amongst men and be seen as an equal.

"That won't happen again, Fenris."

"You don't know that."

"Yes, I do."

"You do not-"

"Fenris," Hawke interrupted, leaning down into eye level. "You can't possibly be tempted by a demon again. You _are_ our equal. You were the last time, but it took that demon to make you realize it."

"Too late," Fenris spat. "I still betrayed you."

Hawke shrugged.

"It is a _big deal_."

"Okay, so it was. But everyone else betrayed me, too."

" _Anders_ -"

"- had a demon inside of him to begin with," Hawke interrupted.

Fenris clamped his teeth together, grinding them in frustration. "You dream of the Fade," he said, "and you are never tempted by what they offer. You always wake up free of demon influence."

Don't remind him of all of those times, and all of those times that he was certain that he wasn't going to wake up before he did. Some of those offers... "I only wake up because the desire demons always take the form of you, and I know you well enough to be able to tell if it's really you or a demon."

Fenris frowned. " _My_ form?"

"Is there someone else I desire?"

"I..." Fenris trailed off, seeming to consider. "I didn't know."

"No," Hawke said. "I didn't tell you. It doesn't matter- okay, it does, but listen. If anything starts to go wrong... You always manage to wake me up, whether the fake you or the real you dragging me away from the nightmares, it's the same here, too. I've got your back, alright? I'm not going to let any demon hurt you again. Cross my heart."

"Do not waste worry on me."

"Who else would I waste it on?"

"You seem to underestimate how much losing you would affect me." That was a little uncharacteristically blunt, and Hawke looked at him in surprise. Fenris was blunt, but emotions? No. Emotions tripped him up. Emotions tripped them both up more than was healthy.

"I know," Hawke said softly. "I know how much losing you scares the shit out of me and..." Everyone around them had stopped, and Hawke followed the direction of their gaze. "Oh. _Maker_."

It was the Divine.

"I greet you, Warden, and you, Champion and companion."

Hawke was certain that he really shouldn't be staring, it was really rude and something was nagging at him and it sounded suspiciously close to Grand Cleric Elthina's voice.

"Divine Justinia," the Inquisitor breathed. "Back at Haven, I saw... I thought I saw... how can you be here??"

She was... dead. At the Conclave. Hawke had... he had never felt one way or the other regarding Divine Justinia. Most of the time, he hadn't had the time to worry about Divine in Kirkwall, and post-Kirkwall, all he had been doing was try to divert her attention from the city. But he had respected her, as he was always wont to do when someone stepped into power and didn't make a complete fool of themselves. Divine Justinia hadn't been perfect, but... she hadn't been the worst thing that could have happened to the Chantry. She had tried, which was more than a handful of other people ever did.

Hawke was trying not to stare, and he was failing.

"She's not," Stroud said. "I fear we face a spirit... or a demon."

Fenris's fingers fell against his blade, not quite unsheathing it. He didn't seem as slack-jawed as Hawke felt, but he also looked like he didn't know what he was supposed to do. _Join the club._

"You think my survival impossible, yet here you stand alive in the Fade yourselves," the Divine replied. "In truth, proving my existance either way would require time we do not have."

"How hard is it to answer one question?" Hawke murmured, if only because he needed the answer himself, even more than he could admit. "I'm a human and you are..."

"I am here to help you."

Hawke ducked his head slightly. It was a good enough answer. It felt strange to question the Divine, spirit or not. Whatever she was, she hadn't attacked them.

"You do not remember what happened at the Temple of Sacred Ashes, Inquisitor."

"The real Divine would have no way of knowing that I'd been made Inquisitor..."

"I know, because I have examined memories like yours, stolen by the demon that serves Corypheus. It is the Nightmare you forget upon waking. It feeds off memories of fear and darkness, growing fat upon the terror. The false Calling that terrified the Wardens into making such grave mistakes? Its work."

"I will gladly avenge the insult this Nightmare dealt my brethren," Stroud said.

"You will have your chance, brave Warden. This place of darkness is its lair."

A fear demon. A fear demon that was thrilling on the horror that was sweeping across the world. Who threw a hole in the sky, an Archdemon in the air, and an old magister trying to achieve godhood together and expected people to _not_ be scared? And in being scared, they were feeding the Nightmare, fueling Corypheus.

Hawke looked down at Fenris silently.

"When you entered the Fade at Haven, the demon took a part of you. Before you do anything else, you must recover it. These are your memories, Inquisitor."

"Demons!" Cassandra cried, and they all fell into battle stations; Fenris finally pulling his blade free and Hawke flicking a handful of fire at a nearby demon before anybody else moved.

The battle was effortless, almost like a test, a precursor of what was to come. The only difference was that the demons left glowing orbs in their place, orbs that the Inquisitor's shaking hand reached out to gather and then-

_the divine, captive by wardens_

_corypheus, orb in his hand_

_the inquisitor, "whats going on here?", grabbing the fallen orb and-_

Fenris's gasp was too close to his ear, and Hawke realized belatedly that the elf had half collapsed onto him. He felt woozy himself, and straightened himself and Fenris up slightly. Those were the Inquisitor's... memories?

"So, your mark did not come from Andraste. It came from the orb Corypheus used in his ritual," Stroud said, straightening up.

"Corypheus intended to rip open the Veil, use the Anchor to enter the Fade, and throw open the doors of the Black City. Not for the Old Gods, but for himself. When you disrupted his plan, the orb bestowed the Anchor upon you instead."

"So, this was, what, an accident?" the Inquisitor demanded. "A random ricochet in the middle of a fight?"

"And if it was?"

"If it was, then neither the Maker nor Andraste were in any way involved in this! I'm just..."

 _Normal?_ Would that be such a bad thing? Hawke wondered. He didn't know for himself, truthfully.

"If you believe in the Maker, then you believe He made this world and everything in it, including your accident. And if you do not, then nothing has changed..."

Hawke wasn't listening. He was still stuck in that vision, the pictures he didn't want thrust into his mind. Those had been _Grey Wardens_ holding the Divine. Did this go back much further than they expected? Were the Wardens more corrupt than they had expected? He would be the first to admit that he wasn't sympathetic to any blood mage's plight, but what it went even deeper than that? Had the Wardens been hearing the Calling even _before_ the Conclave had exploded?

"Something troubles you, Hawke?"

Hawke frowned, looking up at Stroud, and then the Inquisitor. They were looking at him. So was Fenris. "I was wondering if we should be concerned about the Grey Wardens holding the Divine in that vision. Their actions led to her death."

"I assumed he had taken their minds as you have seen him do before." Stroud shook his head. "But we can argue after we escape this dark place."

"Oh, I intend to," Hawke muttered.

"For the record, I agree with you," Fenris said.

"Oh, really? Someone does?" Hawke rolled his eyes.

"All blood magic deserves the harshest of responses."

"Don't get me wrong, I feel for them, I do. I mean, if things were different..." He trailed off for a moment, and then picked up again. "I thought about it. Back in Kirkwall."

"But you did not _do_ it."

"No," Hawke said. "But I _did_ think about it. How easy it would have been, I may have been able to save mother, the fight with the Arishok would have been so different, and the thing with Meredith..." he trailed off.

"You did not," Fenris repeated. "That is what matters."

"Uh huh."

"We all have choices. You made yours, just as the Grey Wardens made theirs."

"Choices. Always come back to that."

"Choices make up our lives, after all." Fenris looked up at him. "Are you coming?"

Hawke laughed. "No, thought I'd stay here. Care to join me? I've never had sex in the Fa- oh. No, sorry, that's wrong."

"Hawke!"

"Well, desire demons-"

"I don't want to hear about your sexual encounters with desire demons," Fenris retorted, stalking ahead. He wasn't really mad. Hawke knew to take the bait, though. A segway into lighter conversation.

"Come on, Fen, don't be jealous! They always look like you! Well, except one time I had a dream about this girl from Lothering... but I was younger and hornier and didn't know you then!"

"More horny than you are now. That _is_ hard to believe."

"Oh, it's _hard_ all right."

"Please don't."

Hawke laughed and let the rest of the Inquisition trail ahead of them. They'd have a battle soon, he was sure, recover some more lost memories. Figure out what was going on with the Divine and the Nightmare, and they'd get back to Adamant and finish the attack there.

They had to.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> IT'S HERE. THE FADE IS HERE.


	13. Chapter Twelve

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fears.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ridiculously short chapter, you guys! I'd apologise, but there's a lot going on in the upcoming ones, so this got shoehorned into something small so I could keep it in. Felt like it was necessary to have a bit about. Back to the usual on Friday!

"Did you think you mattered, Hawke? Did you think anything you ever did mattered?"

Yes. _No._

"You couldn't even save your city."

Lothering? Kirkwall? Which was the Nightmare talking about? It didn't matter. He had failed both of them. He had done all he could. But it had... still failed.

"How could you expect to strike down a god?"

However it takes.

"Fenris is going to die, just like your family, and everyone you ever cared about."

"I am _not_ ," Fenris said, raising his voice to the invisible force around them. "You will not take me away from him so easily."

Hawke touched his shoulder slightly, shaking his head. "It's okay," he mouthed, and then out loud " _That's_ going to grow tiresome quickly".

Fenris was not going to die, Fenris was not going to die, Fenris was- was looking at him so intently that Dorian and Cassandra were looking at them, too. Cole was moping off to the side, and the Inquisitor was pushing ahead silently.

"Go ahead," Fenris said, flicking his hand after the Inquisitor. "We will be right behind."

"What?" Hawke looked between them. "What, are we having a talk? I swear I didn't leave the fire lit at home."

Fenris scowled, trailing behind the Inquisition's members. "Could you be serious?"

"If I try very hard." Hawke cleared his throat, shouldering his staff. "Yes. Is something wrong? Are you okay?"

"Yes. ... Your fear is my dying."

Hawke nodded. "Well, yeah. I've told you that, right?" He'd said that earlier, no, wait, their conversation had gotten interrupted. Well, he'd said it before, right? He thought about it often enough. Those panic attacks didn't come for no reason, and most of them were either memories of his family dying or hallucinations of Fenris dying. "I mentioned that before you demanded to come along with me on this journey."

"You told me that you couldn't bear the thought of living without me."

"Actually, those were your words from a few years ago."

"The same difference," Fenris dismissed. "But I did not..." he trailed off, and Hawke was compelled to reach over to smooth out the crinkle on the bridge of Fenris's nose.

"You didn't believe me?" he asked.

Fenris went cross-eyed to look at the finger on his nose. "I did."

"But?"

Fenris shook his head.

"You want to believe me, then?"

"Yes. Of course."

"Equals, Fen. Of course losing you is my biggest fear. You're the most important person in my life. One of the only people in my life," he muttered, "but by far the most important."

"... Right."

"Heads up!" the Inquisitor called, and Hawke looked up to another battle.

"Oh, _spiders_ ," he muttered. He hated them. Fenris thought it was funny. But at least these were definitely things that he could take pleasure in setting on fire.

"Spiders?" Fenris asked, but they were deviated into the battle.

"Smaller fears, I would wager," Dorian said, afterwards, shaking blood and ichor from the end of his staff. He made a disgusted face, and wiped his hand on his robes. "Scavenging whatever the Nightmare leaves behind."

"And _of course_ they look like giant spiders," Hawke grumbled. He had goosebumps now. Again. He hated spiders, _Maker_. Going into the tunnels in Kirkwall had nearly killed him, all of those giant spiders, the poisonous spiders, he'd had nightmares for _days_. Actually, he hadn't slept the first time he'd ran into one. Spiders just... shouldn't be that big!

"Spiders? That is not what I saw."

"I didn't, either," Fenris said.

"What? No fair!"

"Ahh, of course. The demons look different to each of us, personalized little terrors."

"That's great. Just wonderful. Anything to feed the Nightmare further. What did you all see, then?"

"I saw spiders, too," the Inquisitor said.

"I would prefer not to talk about it," Cassandra said stiffly.

"I agree with Cassandra," Dorian said, crossing his arms. "The less we have to talk about our fears out loud, the better."

"Despair demons, full of hurt, longing, and I can't fix it, can't help them, they suffer and I stand and watch..." Cole trailed off.

Fenris's reply was one word. "Slavers."

"... Oh." Hawke leaned over and kissed the top of his head. "Sorry."

"I'm sorry you had to see giant spiders, too."

"More fuel for the Nightmare. For _our_ nightmares."

"So it seems."

Fenris shivered in the green-hued darkness, and Hawke was certain he wasn't the only one who did.

 


	14. Chapter Thirteen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Banter, arguments, and a crisis of faith.

Time, Hawke had learned, was not linear in the Fade. Or, it didn't ever appear to him to be linear, in his dreams, but maybe that was different. He had watched the sun rise and fall with a Desire Fenris in his dreams, dreams that probably took no more than twenty minutes in reality. Here, he wondered if it were the same. They had been walking for what felt like a long time, or a long distance, but maybe it wasn't that far. The terrain was uneven, and they were always slipping ankle deep into murky puddles of water and goo. The Nightmare continued to hound at the rest of the Inquisition's soldiers, each eliciting less than an outburst than the Nightmare probably expected. They all knew what it was after. No use giving into that fear.

Despite the constant barrage of voices, demons, and the doors of the Black City looming in the distance, they pressed on. Kept moving, and time kept ticking by, and he wondered how much - if any - time was passing outside in Adamant.

"How do you think the soldiers fare?"

The Inquisitor frowned. "I don't know. I told Cullen to not take any chances, but..."

Hawke raised an eyebrow. "You don't really expect him to listen, do you?"

"I _hope_ he does," the Inquisitor muttered, and then sighed, hands fluttering against his armor uselessly. "But I know Cullen, so he'll probably keep them all pushing until I'm back or I'm dead."

"I don't think they'd need Cullen to keep fighting," Hawke said quietly. The Inquisitor looked at him and Hawke hurried to continue. "No, I mean, he's led the army, but they'd be out there fighting, anyway. With or without his direction, I'd guess."

"I hope they're okay," the Dalish murmured.

"I'm sure they're holding up."

"Then why'd you ask in the first place?"

Hawke looked down at him, about to open his mouth to say it was stupid until he noticed the elf smirking at him. "Oh, _that's_ how it is."

The Herald shrugged. "Joking breaks up the monotony of the mind-numbing pressure on the shoulders."

"You don't need to tell me." How old was this guy, anyway? He looked so young. True, Hawke had only been twenty-three when Lothering had gone and the ball had started to tumble down that hill, but... it was different looking in than it was looking out. Hawke cleared his throat a little. "Are you holding up?"

"I'm fine," the Inquisitor replied. "Or, as fine as I can be, I guess. How were you, in Kirkwall?"

"I dunno. Fen, how was I in Kirkwall?"

"Insufferable."

The Inquisitor chuckled.

"Aw, come on, you fell in love with me somehow."

"You two are cute."

"I am _not_ cute."

"I don't know, I think you're pretty cute, love."

"Don't call me that."

"He doesn't like pet names," Hawke explained. "Well, not in front of other people."

"Dorian was like that, at first," the Inquisitor said, glancing back at where Dorian was talking with Cole. Something about wooden ducks. "But he does call me ‘amatus’ now."

"Amatus?"

"‘Beloved’," the Inquisitor and Fenris said together.

"You speak Tevene," the Inquisitor said curiously, peering around at Fenris.

"Yes."

"Elven, too?"

"Yes."

"But you speak more in Tevene than Elven?"

"I have been accused of not being particularly..."

"Elfy?" Hawke ventured.

Fenris sighed. "Yes. ‘Elfy’. Well said."

"You might like Sera," the Inquisitor said. "If you haven't met her already. Short, blonde hair."

"Arrows?" Hawke asked.

"Yeah."

"We haven't met," Hawke said. "You didn't meet her, either, right?"

"No. I heard her in the tavern. Something about trousers?" Fenris asked, hesitant like.

"Yep, that would be her. She's loud and brash, but she can be a lot of fun," the Inquisitor said. "Anyway, she's not very... elfy, either."

"Hey, how do you say ‘I love you’ in Elven, anyway?" Hawke asked.

"‘Ar lath ma’." They spoke at the same time again, but Fenris was the one to turn away. Pink ears.

"Ahh, gotcha," Hawke said. He didn't pull Fenris up on the blush, not this time. "So, if Dorian calls you amatus, what do you call him?"

"‘Vhenan’. It means ‘heart’. I mean, if you're looking in terms of Elven endearments. Most of the time I just call him Dorian, though."

"Yes?" Dorian came winding up, stopping at the Inquisitor's side. "You called, amatus?"

The Inquisitor chuckled, reaching for his hand. "We were just talking about you, that's all."

"Good things, I hope?"

"Only the best."

"Well, naturally. I inspire only the best of conversation."

Hawke smiled, glancing over at Fenris. He hadn't looked back. He looked like he was sulking. Brooding. Of course. "I only know how to say it in Common," Hawke said quietly, leaning over. "You are the one person I love most in this world."

Fenris gasped, jerking as though he'd been zapped. "Hawke! Don't breathe down my neck like that!"

"Sorry." He pulled away. "Did I scare you?"

"I was... elsewhere."

"Evidently. Okay?"

"Yes. We are nearing demons."

The Inquisitor looked up. "What?"

"I can feel them." Fenris drew his blade.

"Demons, coming up," the Inquisitor said, grabbing his staff. "Be ready!"

Fenris looked at the Inquisitor bemusedly, like he hadn't expected him to be listening or to act. But the demons were upon them just then and the warning had come in handy as they jumped into battle again. These were memory demons, if it was going to be the same demons each time. The floaty ones.

They were jerked back into murky pictures before their eyes, and this round revealed that it wasn't Andraste who had saved the Inquisitor, but-

"It was you," the Herald said quietly, looking at Divine Justinia.

The Divine. Not Andraste.

"So this creature is simply a spirit," Stroud said softly.

Hawke let out a breath he didn't know he was even holding. For all of their wandering in the Fade, they hadn't been tired, or hungry, or weak, and despite that, he suddenly felt... exhausted. Not even in the physical sense, really. It hadn't been Andraste, it had been the Divine. "You don't say."

The Divine addressed him. "I am sorry if I disappoint you."

Disappoint... _no, it's not_ your _fault_ , he wanted to say. He couldn't get the words to his tongue. Whoever this woman, spirit, _was_ , she was helping them. She may not be the real Divine, but she was something willing to guide them out of this otherworld. He was disappointed in other things, disappointed that he _wanted_ to believe it had been Andraste herself that had sent someone when the world couldn't find _him_ , and then to find it wasn't?

He knew that he had _wanted_ it to be, but he didn't realize how much he _needed_ it to be until just now, when his faith was suddenly crashing down around his ears. He couldn't think about this right now. He needed Andraste and the Maker to guide them to safety, but he supposed that this... Divine Justinia spirit would have to do.

"Hawke?" Fenris murmured.

Hawke shook his head. "Later," he muttered, and thrust himself back into the conversation. Anything to focus on except this. "Regardless of what this spirit _truly_ is, we do know that the mortal Divine perished at the temple, thanks to the Grey Wardens." He waited for Stroud to give a rebuttal; it only took a moment.

"As I said, the Grey Wardens responsible for that crime were under the control of Corypheus."

_How do you know?_

"We can discuss this further once we return to Adamant," Stroud continued firmly.

"Assuming that the Wardens and their demon army didn't destroy the Inquisition while we were gone."

And that, evidently, was the final straw for Stroud. "How dare you judge us? You tore Kirkwall apart and started the mage rebellion!"

"To protect innocent mages, not madmen drunk on blood magic!" Hawke snapped. "But you'd ignore that, because you can't imagine a world without the Wardens, even if that's what we need after all of this!"

"What are you _saying_?" Stroud retorted. "Do you hear how ridiculous you sound?"

"And do you know how _stupid_ you sound, wanting to protect the people who _sacrificed_ other Wardens, their brethren just for their mad plan?"

"They were _controlled_ by _Corypheus_! How many times do you need to be told this?"

"Blood magic is still blood magic! They knew they were summoning demons! That damned them from the start!"

"Oh, sweet Maker, would the two of you just _shut up_?!"

Hawke looked at the Inquisitor, felt Stroud turn, too. The Inquisitor looked surprised at himself for yelling. "Inquisitor..."

"I just mean... now is _not_ the time."

"Demons," Cole cried. "Dying, denying, drawing, I'm not one of them and they're not one of me but they want all of us-"

"The Nightmare has found us!" the "Divine" exclaimed, and vanished out from sight.

Hawke looked back at Stroud. Whatever their differences were, whether they agreed on the Wardens or not, they needed to work together to get out of here. And even if their lives didn't matter, if, for some reason, Maker forbid, something happened, they needed to get the Inquisitor out.

He silently made a pact with the Warden just then. _Yes, we will argue once we get back to Adamant._

"Form up!"

"I'm with you!"

Hawke went for the nearest spider. Fenris zeroed in the same one, and it gave way into a conversation over the clang of swords and the sizzle of magic.

"Hey, thanks for your help back there!"

Fenris blocked a spider's leg, swinging his blade around to slice it free of the body. "With what?"

"Oh, I don't know, that argument!"

"You seemed to have had a handle on it."

"That's true," Hawke said with a huff, cracking his staff over a demon's head. "But some support, maybe?"

Fenris almost smirked. Almost. "You don't need me to fight your battles, Hawke." And then he whisked away, spinning around to join Cole.

Hawke almost laughed. Fenris said almost the same thing every time Hawke tried to step up for Fenris. _I can handle myself._ He was ridiculously independent that way. Which was not a bad thing, all things given. And no, he didn't need Fenris to fight his battles. If he was being serious, he would have been a lot more irritated. Just like he knew that Fenris didn't need his help in battle, either. That the difference between them, though. Hawke wanted to put his fingers into everything, and Fenris was sometimes content to let good enough alone.

... Again, _not_ necessarily a bad thing, Hawke was coming to find.

"Did you truly think you were an equal, Fenris?" The Nightmare.

"Oh shit." Hawke jerked his attention to Fenris, catching the tension roll into the elf's shoulders as he wrenched to a halt. "Fenris, don't-"

"Did you truly think you were at Hawke's level?"

The spider going for Fenris's still form exploded, product of one of the other mage's magic. Fenris shook his head and jolted back to reality, blade at the ready.

"You will never be at his level. You will never be at any of their levels. You thought you could break the chains but they will always be there. One day, those companions you call friends, even _Hawke_ , will turn on you, and you will be enslaved again."

"That is _bullshi_ -" Hawke started, but Fenris, driven back close to him with the battle, shook his head.

"It is useless to argue with it. Let us not feed it further. It does not know my companions. It does not know _you_." Another demon fell, and they were left standing in a graveyard of carcasses. "Not like I do," Fenris continued, and stepped over a spider's body.

 _Oh._ He was so calm. Confident. Hawke could brush off the Nightmare's analysis of his fears without batting an eyelash, when in reality he _was_ terrified that Fenris was going to die. Disgusted by his own weakness, his inability to save anything and anyone, and his ability to let that go, too. But if Fenris didn't die now, then eventually, by some design that Hawke could stop but inevitably wouldn't. But Fenris sounded so _confident_. _It doesn't know you, not like I do._ Hawke hoped that he was _actually_ so confident. (They would talk about it later.) But without talking about it, Hawke could only take it at face value, and Fenris looked calm. And that cool confidence...

"Fen?"

"Yes?"

 _I really wanna kiss you right now_. With all the intent of pushing him back against the rock and kissing him, hard, hanging onto his hands and _I love you I would never do any of that stuff the Nightmare said to you_ , Hawke intended to state his intention to kiss him. It didn't come out. Fenris looked at him curiously when he didn't speak, and... those really sappy, disgustingly cliché moments where you stared into the eyes of the person you loved and the whole world kind of stopped and? Those weren't real, those were all just fiction.

Except they weren't.

It was like watching Fenris walk up outside of that building in Lowtown's alienage all over again. Hawke smiled sheepishly.

Fenris smiled back.

"He's glowing," Cole said.

"Is he really?" Dorian remarked. "It doesn't look it to me."

"On the inside," Cole continued. "He's beaming, bright, buoyant. Light enough to float away, the person he loves is here with him and they'll be okay. Brilliant and beautiful and... blushing. He's blushing."

He was.

Actually, Hawke felt a little hot, too.

Evidently Fenris was _really_ that confident, elsewise Cole would have picked up on his fear instead of his... glowiness.

"I refuse to listen to this," Fenris complained, shoving ahead.

The Inquisitor chuckled. "Come on, Cole. I think you're starting to _literally_ embarrass everyone."

"I think they just made telepathic love," Dorian commented. "Was it satisfactory? I never have had sex in the Fade, even with the lovely dreams. I always imagined that would be the part where you would have your soul sucked out."

" _Dorian_ , please. Fenris, wait up!" The Inquisitor hurried after the elf that was still stalking away.

Dorian shrugged. "Is it such a travesty to be curious?" he asked, following them.

"... so romantic..."

Hawke had almost forgotten Cassandra was there for a second. He looked at her for that comment, the grin flying to his lips again. Ah, yes, the hopeless romantic. Hawke knew they fought, but he would have thought that the Seeker would have gotten along well with Varric. (Varric had no problem being a romantic out loud; Cassandra, however? That _had_ to be why they fought.) "What was that?" he joked.

Cassandra looked at him. He was surprised she didn't have little stars in her eyes or something. Almost. But not quite. And, naturally, that glint in her eye turned to one of disdain when she realized she'd been caught. Again. "Nothing," she said icily, and stalked after them.

Hawke really had to learn not to laugh at the Seeker. But he couldn't _help_ it. She was adorable, in a prickly sort of way. Sort of like Fenris, really.

Speaking of his prickly partner, they were getting too far ahead of him. Hawke, still chuckling, picked up his feet and kept moving.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the minor delays, folks.
> 
> I can also say there's only four more chapters now! We know what's coming.


	15. Chapter Fourteen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tragedy?

"We have to protect the barrier!"

" _Fasta vass_ ," Dorian exclaimed, dodging out of the way of a spell from one of the demons. "They keep coming!"

" _Protect the barrier!_ " the Inquisitor repeated, the zap of electricity punctuating the statement.

"Woah." Hawke spun out of the way of a spider, and into the path of another demon. "Shit." A spray of ice froze them both, and he swung the staff in a wide arc to shatter them both. "I'm being bounced all over the place!"

Cassandra's blade cut down another adversary, blood spraying in an arc across the mottled ground. "We cannot keep going like this!" she said, and charged towards another cluster of demons, anyway. She and Stroud cut through the line easily, but it wasn't the strength of the enemy; it was the number.

Hawke agreed, Dorian agreed, too, by the sound of things, Cole hardly said anything at all, and Fenris was focused wholly on the fight. But Hawke agreed; they could sustain combat for so long and win, but when they were being worn down all in one battle, their power was going to be sapped. They had already dug into the supply cache sat nearby more than once, and they would likely need those for whatever was waiting beyond the barrier they were trying to protect now. The Nightmare.

They needed to conserve their strength for that, and there was no way they could do that like this. They needed to end this quickly. Okay, dig down, Hawke. He focused on the swell of magic beneath his skin, conjuring up the pictures of fire and heat. Firestorm would end many of the enemies at once. It was a little more difficult, a little more time consuming and energy draining, but it was alright once in awhile. It did its job, and it did, do its job, that was; five of the seven enemies surrounding him collapsed into a heap nearby. That was a start. He looked for the nearest group to launch back into, getting his strength back.

" _Hawke!_ "

Hawke cocked his head. What- oh. Despair Demon. He hadn't noticed it lurking beyond the rocky outcrop, _shit_. He hated Despair Demons. They were too much long distance fighting and they hit like a bitch; once you were in their sights, it was near impossible to get out.

His entire mental dialogue went on in the process of about a half second, of course.

Before he had time to react, or move, or think of moving, or before anyone could cast anything that would protect him from the impending jolt of pain, the demon was attacking.

And Fenris put himself between them.

_No._

No, no. Surely this was another hallucination. _A_ hallucination, a product of the Nightmare digging into his worst fears, because Fenris didn't yelp, didn't make that sort of tortured noise for anything, didn't crumple to the ground, didn't sacrifice himself for Hawke shit of course he would sacrifice himself for Hawke he would kill himself to protect Hawke this wasn't a dream this wasn't a hallucination this was real this was real this was real-

Hawke was stuck with glue under his feet. Even when the last of the demons were just then vanquished, the Inquisitor throwing up one of the strange rifts that only he specifically could control, he was still. He couldn't. He couldn't _move_. All he could do was stare on in horror as the rest of the group rushed over to Fenris, crowding around him. Because Fenris couldn't be. He couldn't. _No_.

Not after all this time, not after Hawke had seen him fight so effortlessly, bravely, and without a second thought. Not after he had survived everything this journey had thrown at him, not to give up his life for Hawke when that was the one thing Hawke feared the most, regardless of how the Nightmare phrased it-

Hawke finally broke free of his reverie, sprinting the distance to Fenris. "Fenris, Fen, no, no, no. Fen!" He grabbed his shoulder and shook it harshly, not noticing how roughly until Fenris cried out and Hawke cringed. "Sorry! I'm sorry! Stay with me!"

"I'm not- _venhedis -_ going anywhere." Fenris tried to prop himself up, and would have crashed back to the rock had Hawke not cushioned his fall.

"Stop moving! Let me heal you."

"I'm fine..."

"This isn't something you can just walk off, Fenris," Stroud said softly, inspecting Fenris's wounds. It looked... so not good. Hawke swallowed.

"So much blood, so much pain. How can I help you? Tell me how we can help you."

"Stop-" Fenris started, but cringed in Hawke's arms as the mage started to heal him.

"Sorry, I know it hurts, it'll even out," he muttered, as though he hadn't had to heal Fenris before.

Fenris curled slightly into Hawke's lap, blowing his hair out of his face. "Hawke... we do not know... what is out there." He groaned softly, trapping the sound in the back of his throat. "Save your strength." He was starting to sound a little stronger in the voice, at least. Just a little, which was better than laying there, half dead.

Technically, he knew he was right. He was _tired_. Not physically, but the effects of too much magic, too quickly. Any other time, if they hadn't been trapped in the Fade, it wouldn't have mattered. They could have gone to a camp, slept, reenergized, but now? They were in the Fade, with nothing but spirits and demons and the Nightmare for company.

Reluctantly, he let the power dwindle from his fingertips. "That's the best I can do without dragging the rest of my energy out," he said softly, "but if you need more, I'm willing to give-"

"No," Fenris replied quickly, gripping at Hawke's shoulder. "'s fine."

"Are you certain?" Cassandra asked. "Here, take one of the potions." She all but thrust it into the elf's shaking hands, and wouldn't take his denial in needing it.

Fenris gulped it down and made a face, unsteadily pushing himself to his feet. "Let us go," he murmured, and said nothing of the way his legs trembled as he stood.

He would continue to fight if it killed him, Hawke realized again with a jolt. He wanted to pull him back into his arms and finish healing him, sapping his strength be damned. Instead, he tried to choke back the emotion wrapped around the lump in his throat and hauled his partner into his arms as gently as was possible.

"Hawke!" Fenris gasped. "Put me down."

"There's no point to irritate your injuries further. I'll let you fight, because I know you won't sit on the sidelines, but let me do this in the meantime," Hawke said quietly.

"I'm sorry there's nothing more we can do," the Herald said softly. "I never learned healing spells in my clan, and the rest of my training has gone towards controlling the rifts..."

"It's the same with me, I'm afraid," Dorian said. "If you need necromancy, I can do that. Healing? Not quite my repertoire. I _can_ keep a barrier on both of you in the meantime, however."

"Thanks," Hawke said, genuinely. "We'll be okay, don't worry."

"I can _walk_ ," Fenris complained.

No one paid attention to him. Hawke even less because if Fenris was up to his usual, he would have been squirming and fighting the whole way. Especially now, when there were battles to be fought, when there were people around to witness his apparent ‘disgrace’ at being injured and needing help. But he wasn't, so he _was_ hurting.

Hawke gestured them forward. He had both of the warriors nearby now, ready to hold off any surprise attack if it became necessary. Fenris looked like he was pouting until it turned to more of a grimace, and eventually his breathing calmed, if it didn't quite even out. Hawke wanted to shower him in potions and healing magic.

"You're shaking... Hawke."

"Sorry." He rethought what he was saying, and snorted softly, almost derisively. " _You_ should be the one apologizing."

"For what?"

"Doing _that_."

Fenris shrugged, a little motion laced with pain and exemplified by the stiffness in the small body. "You would do the same for me."

Hawke wanted to be irate - it gave him an alternative for fear, and he had _told_ him, again and again, no risks! No more! Not for him! - but damn it, Fenris was _right_. He knew he was right and he couldn't fault him, even if all the action had done was make Hawke want to put his face in his hands and give into the tears prickling the back of his eyelids.

_Not_ right now.

It was all fuel for the Nightmare, too. So, no. He was good at keeping it together externally when everything was going to shit in his mind. If it wasn't for the press of urgency around them, he might have dissolved into some sort of anxiety attack then and there, in the middle of a Fade he couldn't just wake up from.

Not right now.

He said nothing else, and neither did Fenris. The elf seemed to be dozing in his arms as they walked, and Hawke let him. Everything looked so wrong in the glow of the Fade, and Fenris's light hair was already stained with blood, tangled into knots where it had fallen from the ponytail. Hawke would have tied it back if he had another ribbon. The lyrium seemed unnaturally dim against his skin, too; the elf was more pale than usual and Hawke tried not to think about the blood on his armor, to look at the way it was saturating his trousers and staining his fingers.

"We're almost there," someone said eventually, and Hawke looked up. The glowing mass in the sky was so close now, looming in the near distance. An invitation if Hawke had ever saw one, so what was the creepy crawly feeling at the back of his neck?

"Let's regroup for a moment," the Inquisitor said. "We don't know what's waiting ahead. The Nightmare isn't going to let us leave that easily."

Fenris stirred as Hawke settled into a relatively dry spot near the wall. He had been planning to listen to the discussion but it suddenly seemed less important now. "Fenris?"

Fenris grunted and cleared his throat, a rough, catching sound that had him flinching in Hawke's arms. "Yes?" he rasped, reaching up for Hawke's shoulder to pull himself up.

"Ah, don't move. Please." He allowed Fenris to sit, but pulled him up himself. "Don't waste your energy."

"I fell asleep." Fenris's eyes flashed around the open cavern, and then at Hawke. "What's happening?" He said it with all of the determination that he might have had had he not been hurt, but his voice lacked conviction. He looked like he was ready to fall back asleep then and there if it wasn't for the fact that something was about to happen.

"We're almost there," he said softly, nodding towards the rift.

"Oh." He made a little more effort to sit up straight. "The Nightmare?"

"Has been silent, but I'm sure it's waiting for us."

Fenris nodded. "I will fight."

"Don't be ridiculous." Hawke frowned. "You can barely sit up, you're not going out there and overexerting yourself-"

"I will not sit by and watch," Fenris interrupted. "Do not ask me to. I would not ask you."

"You did, back in the Approach!"

"It's _different_ ," Fenris stressed. "This is the Fade. There is no other option. Either we fight, and escape, or we all die."

"You're still hurt."

"I will do what I can."

Hawke knew from experience that there was no fighting Fenris when his mind was set. That the whole reason the elf had gotten to come along with him in the first place (and because he hadn't wanted to leave him, truly). But it didn't mean that he wasn't going to try.

"Don't put yourself in danger _again_. Please, Fenris?

"I could say the same."

"There's two other warriors, Cassandra, Stroud, not to mention the plethora of mages we have here, and Cole, I think we can handle it."

"I will not-"

"How are you going to fight like this? You can't even _stand_ ," Hawke repeated.

"Maybe I'll throw rocks."

"Oh, _now_ you think it's a good suggestion!"

"I didn't say it was. It just happens to be a means to the end we have to achieve-" A gasp, as he moved wrong.

"You can't even _throw_ a rock! Either you let me heal you-"

"Foolish."

"Or you sit down and let us handle the heavy lifting!"

"I will fight, Hawke. You will not stop me."

"Your body will, and when you end up unconscious on the ground, what help are you going to be then?"

A soft cough - or not so soft, really - drew Hawke out of his own little world with Fenris, finding the rest of their group either watching them or looking pointedly away.

"Oh." Hawke forced a grin. "Lover's quarrel. Sorry. Did I miss anything I need to know?"

And he kept the grin on his face as he listened to the rundown of what they had, what they needed to watch for, what their tactics were, and who was going to do when the battle occurred. Hawke was listening, really, he was, but his mind was also drifting to the elf still stuck leaning against his chest, either unwilling to move or unable to. So stubborn. Hawke had known this for ages and had, more or less, learned to live with it. They were both stubborn, and someone had to back down somewhere. But this was dangerous. Life-threatening, and so what if Fenris was right? So what if this was different than when he had gotten hurt in the Approach; this was the Fade, and they had no other way, so _what_? Let Fenris injure himself further? Hawke couldn't _have_ that.

But part of him recognized the futility of it... because if they didn't fight, they would die. One way or another. They wouldn't escape, and a lifetime in the Fade would be worse than death.

When they picked themselves up to keep going, Fenris demanded on walking. One arm slung around Hawke's waist and Hawke's arm tucked around him, too. They fell behind, but the "Divine" was waiting just ahead, so the group was going nowhere without them. Fenris was standing on pure determination. Hawke was secretly hoping he'd get so tired from the walk that he would relent and admit he wouldn't be able to help this time. Hawke was almost as equally sure that he would never say that, even if he were dying.

And then the Nightmare came into view.

And, suddenly, Hawke was hit with the fact that it didn't matter if Fenris was hurt because there was no way that they were getting out of here alive.

He assumed it was the Nightmare, anyway, or maybe the Nightmare was the smaller entity, but Nightmare? All encompassing fear? Sounded like it should be the big one. Either way, there was _no way_ they could fight the one, let alone the two.

"Andraste watch over us," Cassandra breathed.

Hawke snorted softly. "Will she, I wonder?" he muttered. Only Fenris heard him, and the elf gave him a sharp look for it. "Sorry. I guess I'm having a crisis of faith. Not really the best time." He waved away Fenris's concerned look and focused his attention on the "Divine". The spirit said something to the Inquisitor, something Hawke couldn't make out, and flew towards the giant creature in a pulse of bright light.

When it had cleared, when he could blink the spots from his vision and face their reality in the Fade again, the creature was gone.

"... She will watch over us," Fenris said softly, reaching for his blade.

Maybe... maybe? Hawke couldn't afford to doubt in the Maker or Andraste right now, and that spirit vanquishing that demon was probably a good of sign as he was going to get right now. _Believe, just for a little longer._ He needed to believe _someone_ was out there, watching over them.

"Fenris... I love you." The words slipped out unbidden. He cringed at how final they sounded, but he wouldn't - couldn't - take them back. He wielded his staff, and allowed Fenris to continue to lean on his shoulder.

"No goodbyes, Hawke."

"It's not a goodbye, it's just-"

"Hawke," Fenris said, almost a warning.

"I just love you, alright? I'm pledging myself to you, promising to be with you forever."

Fenris's eyes had widened; he was staring at him like he couldn't process the words. "What are you saying?"

"I don't know, I just... you saved me when I didn't know I needed saving and that sounds stupid but I just want you to know that I love you, no matter what happens." Everything was happening too quickly. The rest of the Inquisition moving forward into battle, the crackle of magic charging through the air. Hawke's heart was in his mouth and his tongue was getting caught over his words. He didn't want it to be goodbye, and he _believed_ that it wouldn't be goodbye (in the same way he believed in the Maker right now; he needed it, he needed to) but he _had_ to say it, had to.

Fenris was staring, breathing accelerated even if they hadn't moved. They needed to, the battle had already begun. And yet? And still- "You have my life, Hawke. You have my heart."

Hawke grinned goofily, smiling when he felt like gathering the elf and running. There was nowhere to run to. Not this time. And, as was his usual modus operandi, he countered the serious moment with the only way he knew how. "Hopefully not in the same way _you_ take other people's hearts." A joke.

Fenris shook his head. Maybe mockingly.

Hawke kept smiling. "And the Inquisition has our blades," he murmured, and after helping Fenris to stand up straight, threw himself into the fray.

 


	16. Chapter Fifteen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hawke tries to take charge.

"Ow..." Hawke hauled himself up from the ground, fingers flying to the ache beneath his temple. " _Shit_. What happened...? Fenris?"

The scent of blood and water, the smell of death, it was all assailing his senses. It wasn't entirely unfamiliar. Maker's breath, was his memory fuzzy. Where was Fenris? And his group? _Focus, Hawke_.

He cleared his throat, and tried again. "Fenris."

No response was forthcoming and Hawke sighed, pushing himself from his knees to his feet. Okay, figure out what happened, smart ass. He'd say a battle, but it didn't really feel like one. Drink too much and pass out? Had been known to happen, but it didn't feel like that, either. It didn't feel like Kirkwall. It didn't feel like home. So where...

It didn't matter.

There was a figure laying on the ground a few feet away and the what, the why, the how, the _where_ , it didn't matter, because he knew that body, he knew that hair and those ears and everything that was so _"Fenris!"_

He didn't remember the battle. Maybe he had hit his head. Maybe that explained the headache. But there had to have been. Because Fenris was laying lifeless a few feet away and Hawke sprinted the few feet, falling to his knees next to him.

"Hey, hey, Fenris. Fenris. Fenris!" He rolled him over, recoiling at the blood trickling down from the elf's eyes, his nose. No, no, no- "Fenris. Fenris. You don't get to do this." His fingers crashed down against Fenris's neck, feeling for a pulse. Searching. "No, no, no, no, no, no, you don't get to leave again, you don't get to leave me again, do you _hear me_! Fenris!"

There had to be some... _think_... healer, or- or potions. Anders! Where was Anders? He could heal better than Hawke could and... Fenris's hair slipped out from between Hawke's fingers, blood stained and brittle. Hawke stared at it. When... when had Fenris's hair gotten so long? Wait... wait.

This wasn't home. This wasn't right. This wasn't Kirkwall, and Anders had long ago fled into the shadows, and Fenris didn't have long hair until _after_ they had fought Meredith. When they had been living together. On the run together. Until the Inquisition-

There was pressure against his chest, hard and tight and hot, and Hawke spluttered for breath.

This wasn't home. This wasn't _normal_. This wasn't Kirkwall, and maybe there _was_ a battle. There had been about to be, there _had_ been. A fight... but not in Kirkwall and not in any realm that Hawke knew and could understand. They had been fighting in the _Fade_ -

Hawke gasped, eyes flying open as he choked on his own saliva and the smell of blood and salt. There was something rough and cold biting into his cheek. He blinked a few times. Everything was green and black and there was fighting in the distance.

"- wke. _Hawke_."

He knew that voice. "Fenris...?"

"Thank the Maker," Fenris muttered, a gauntleted hand clamping down on Hawke's shoulder. It was the touch that roused him enough to draw himself away from the rocks, and sit up, where he stared blearily towards Fenris, before remembering why they were here. His attention redirected so quickly that it made his headache explode into bright lights and muffled sounds, and yes, there was the Inquisitor and the rest of the group still fighting.

"What happened?" he demanded. Stroud was laying a few feet away and Hawke reached over to shake his shoulder. The warrior jolted awake almost as soon as he had touched him.

"I don't know." Fenris clawed his way up as Hawke stood. For a moment, Hawke had forgotten he _was_ truly injured. If that... whatever he had seen came true... "Some sort of stunning spell," the elf continued, using his blade for a crutch. "It hit the three of us."

"I had... visions," Stroud muttered, holding his head. " _Horrible_." He picked up his sword and shook his head, before pushing ahead into the battle again.

"Further taunting by our enemy, most likely," Fenris muttered.

"Dreams. _Not_ visions." It couldn't be a vision. It couldn't. Hawke smiled tightly. "Be careful," and followed Stroud back into battle.

He didn't stray far from Fenris, watching the injured elf with a closer eye after those nightmares. He took down a couple of the lesser demons and swung back into casting range of the Aspect of the Nightmare. If it was a fight it wanted... if it was going to put pictures in his head, if it was going to taunt him with the threat of death, then he would _give it that threat of death_. The finality of it, even.

"Watch out!"

"Scatter!" It was an effective enough strategy that they all went scattering, the demon's attack barely missing them. The ground shook. Hawke staggered.

"Here, let me help-"

" _Don't_ touch me, mage!"

"Your boyfriend's a mage!"

"Can you two have this discussion some other time!" Cassandra yelled, steadying herself, and Hawke glanced over his shoulder in time to see Fenris stagger away from Dorian, although not before he noticed he was leaning on him just for that half second too long. Dorian's armor came away red. Hawke didn't know if it was Dorian's blood or something else's blood or Fenris's blood.

"Watch your back, Hawke!"

"I can't! It's behind me!" he retorted. "How am I supposed to watch something behind me- umph." He dove out of the way of one of the demon's arms and rolled back to his feet, darting around the rocks and enemies. "Listen! We need to hit it hard and hit it fast! We're wearing ourselves out!" he yelled. "Mages, synchronize our attacks! Everyone else, stay out of the line of fire and go in for an all-out." He skidded to a stop next to the Herald. "Does that work for you, Inquisitor?"

"Fine by me!" The Herald raised his hand. "I've got just enough focus for one more rift, and then we'll join up. Dorian!"

"Right here, amatus."

"Pick a spell and attack with it with everything you've got! We don't have second chances after this!"

Hawke would stick with fire. It was the first element he had ever learned, and it came most naturally to him.

"You and I alternate with the barriers," the Inquisitor continued, addressing Dorian, and then, to Stroud, Cassandra, Fenris, and Cole, "Same with you four. Stay on that side, and if you get hit, fall back. Fenris, that means you, specifically!"

"I am _fine_!" Fenris yelled back.

"Do as the Inquisitor says!" Hawke said.

"Stay out of it!"

"On three!"

The resulting blast of fire, ice, and electricity lit up the Fade. Hawke closed his eyes. The casting was like drawing breath; he didn't need to see. The Aspect of the Fade wouldn't be going anywhere with the concentrated barrage of attacks. So Hawke closed his eyes. And he prayed.

Please, if you're out there, just let us get out of here safely. I know I can only ask for so many passes, but please... if not me, then them. Let Fenris and the rest of the Inquisition get out of here.

The Aspect fell with an almighty cry.

"It's dead!"

"Let's get out of here!"

"Sounds like a _damn_ good idea to me!" Hawke staggered over to Fenris just as the elf collapsed. "Woah, woah, hey, I got you. You did good, yeah?"

"Not a child... Hawke..." Fenris panted, head lolling against his shoulder.

"No," Hawke agreed. "You're a grown ass man who's hurt really badly and who should know when to quit."

"Go, go!" The Inquisitor was already ushering the rest of his group ahead. "You three, let's go!"

"Do you have him?" Stroud was lingering, waiting to make sure Fenris and Hawke were alright.

Hawke nodded, waving him forward. "Yes, I've got him, we're coming." For the... he'd lost track, time, he hefted Fenris into his arms. This time, Fenris didn't protest. Maybe he was taking the advice on knowing when to quit into consideration.

"Run," the Inquisitor demanded, and followed after their companions.

And they did.

Until the Nightmare came crashing back into view, nearly on top of them. Stroud almost fell over; Hawke actually did, earning a cry both from himself and Fenris. Surprise and hurt, and the Inquisitor was motioning them forward, unknowing-

"Inquisitor!"

He noticed at the last second and dove out of way, scrambling up next to Hawke and Stroud.

At least... at least the rest of the party had gotten out before it had showed up. Right? They had been running towards the rift, they had to have gotten out, right...?

The Inquisitor helped Hawke back to his feet, helping Fenris back to his, while Stroud stared on. "... We need to clear a path."

Let Fenris and the rest of the Inquisition get out of here.

He had asked for it. Prayed for it. And he could not keep accepting miracle after miracle, even for all of the bad things that happened to him, he couldn't ask for this one thing without some sort of giving back, some sort of silent agreement - _you take me, I'll save them._

"Go," he said softly, even before he was aware he was speaking. "I'll cover you."

 _"No!"_ Fenris's cry hurt worse than the gauntlets digging into his exposed arm. Hawke dug his fingers into his palms and focused on the little prickles of pain instead, ignoring him.

"No, Hawke, you were right," Stroud said. "The Grey Wardens caused this. A Warden must-"

"A Warden must help them rebuild. That's _your_ job. Corypheus is mine."

"Hawke, no. _No_." Fenris's fingers scrabbled at his arm. He didn't know if he was trying to keep himself upright or drive the point home; he supposed it didn't matter. He couldn't look down at him. He knew he deserved to live and die with the horror on Fenris's face, the horror that matched the tone of his voice, but he couldn't... he couldn't. He wanted his last memory of him to be something happier. Long, silver hair in the sunlight. Bubble baths that smelled like roses. Limbs entwined, flush against each other in bed. Smiling.

"Take Fenris and go," he said, looking anywhere but the elf.

"I am not leaving without you!" Fenris shouted.

The volume was enough to get Hawke to instinctively look at him; Fenris didn't yell, even in their yelling matches (nonexistent, save on his end). And then he couldn't look away. He just wanted to memorize this, memorize every little detail. You can't take anything with you when you go? Screw that. This, this memory would be all he needed.

"You taught me to stand up for myself! To be _selfish_ ," Fenris spat. "I am _not_ leaving without you! You will not stay here, Hawke, you do not get to do this again and _again_! Sacrificing yourself to save others, not _again_!"

This was one time he couldn't blunt it into a joke. There was so much he wanted to say. There wasn't time. "... I'm sorry, Fenris," he said instead.

"No." Fenris's voice was just as determined, albeit softer. "No. I am not leaving you. We will fight together, and we will die together." Only Fenris could deliver that line and not sound like an idiot. Maybe it was in the way that the anger had gone, replaced with a dullness Hawke knew too intimately well, the waver in his speaking when his voice broke with emotion.

"Not this time, Fen," Hawke murmured. He tried to smile. This time, he was certain he failed.

He was transfixed in a horrified way at the look on Fenris's face, like a murder in the street, and you were unable to look away. And so, he missed the look that the Inquisitor and Stroud shared, right up until the moment that Stroud raised his sword and charged at the Nightmare. "For the Wardens!"

"Strou... Stroud!"

Fenris went slack at Hawke's side, and this time, he was the only reason that the elf stayed upright.

"Take him and go!" the Inquisitor demanded, shoving him towards the rift.

Hawke cast another look towards Stroud. He couldn't win. There was no way. Maybe. Maybe, if they helped... There had to be something...

" _Go!_ "

Hawke swore, and it sounded unfamiliar to his own ears. He didn't know if it was Common or Tevene or his adrenaline wearing off to leave him cold and numb, but he gathered Fenris in his arms and ran.

He glanced over his shoulder in time to see Stroud fall. Fenris was unconscious in his arms, and the Inquisitor was at his back, shoving him into the rift. So much tragedy...

The last thing he saw was the green of the rift, and then the deafening silence swallowed them whole.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay - had some personal issues and didn't feel like beta-ing the chapter for Friday's update. But here we are; the choices made in the Fade. The consequences of said choices are yet to be disclosed because you know Fenris is NOT going to be happy.
> 
> The "vision" I've written Hawke, Stroud, and Fenris having are because, you know, they get stunned in the fight and just sway around uselessly for a bit? I think that's a universal thing? Or else I got seriously screwed in my fights lol


	17. Chapter Sixteen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aftermath.

As soon as the last demon had been felled in Adamant, Hawke had gotten the various potions necessary to heal Fenris and done so, and then they were gone. It wasn't that he didn't want to stay around for the end - whenever that may be. He wanted to be there when Corypheus was found. He wanted to be the one to bring Corypheus to his knees. But after what had happened in the Fade...

Fenris still wasn't talking to him.

They just needed to get as far away as possible, for the time being. So, he told the Inquisitor that he would go to Weisshaupt. They offered them a compliment of guards, but he turned them down. When this was all over, he planned on taking Fenris and vanishing, and this time, maybe they wouldn't tell anyone. Maybe they would have time to themselves, where no one - not even Varric, and Hawke regretted that he hadn't been able to say goodbye to his friend - could find them. If they vanished along the way back from Weisshaupt, well. Maybe everyone would assume that the Champion who always sought trouble had gotten in over his head, once and for all. And maybe, just maybe, they'd be able to rebuild what had been undone in the past few months.

The trip to the Anderfels took weeks. The sticky heat pressed down on them, and the humidity made it even harder to breathe. Fenris only spared a few words, when he was directly spoken to or needed something. Their conversations were civil. He was mad. He had every right to be. Hawke would explain himself later - he didn't have an explanation - and he would apologize later, when they weren't on the road. Right now wasn't a good time to try and make it better. Until this was finished, he would probably make it worse.

And so the trip to the Anderfels took weeks, and it was hot and sticky and uncomfortable. Weisshaupt should have been a relief to get to. It wasn't. The fortress was like a bomb waiting to explode, and Hawke suspected that the sheer power of that explosion would level anything nearby. He didn't want to be around when they lost what was left of their cool, which was limited to begin with.

The Wardens did not take kindly to an outsider coming into their fortress and telling them of things that could not possibly be true. Hawke wouldn't have taken it very well, either, really, if someone he didn't know - someone who wasn't even a Warden - came in and started explaining that the reason the Wardens were hearing the Calling was because of an old Tevinter magister and his crazy Fade demons, and that Wardens had been the ones to hold the Divine captive. Hawke was disrupting everything that the Wardens knew. He had expected hostility. It was fine.

Stroud should have been the one to be here.

_Maker._

"- have not been able to contact any of the Wardens outside of Adamant," one of the Wardens was saying, "up until now. If what they're saying about Commander Clarel is true-"

"It is true that we lost control with Commander Clarel _months_ ago."

"But how-"

"Is this really the time to argue over Commander Clarel's transgressions? If what Hawke says is true-"

Hawke stopped listening. They argued. A lot. And all Hawke could do was sit there and wait for them to call on him to answer their questions. It was boring. But at least it was uneventful. A chance to relax.

From the chair next to him, Fenris slumped down a little.

Hawke frowned slightly. He glanced at the Wardens, and then leaned over to whisper to Fenris. "You alright?"

"I'm tired."

Hawke analyzed him. _Tired?_

Fenris glanced at him from the corner of his eye. He sighed softly. "I hurt."

Hawke's frown deepened. _Hurt?_ He would have preferred tired. Fenris hardly admitted to being tired. If he was injured or sick, he would admit to it. That was something that would slow them down. But, according to Fenris, hunger, temperature, or tiredness was something that could be overcome (at least for a time), so he never mentioned when he was cold or tired unless it was serious.

Hawke leaned back and straightened up, clearing his throat. "If you don't mind," he said, "we're going to take our leave. We had plenty of late nights while with the Inquisition, so we're trying to catch up on lost sleep." He stood up, and offered his hand down to Fenris. Fenris looked it for a half second too long before he took it.

"But serah Hawke-"

"We will be here tomorrow," Hawke interrupted. "Unless we steal away in the night. Kidding!" he added, noting the dark look crossing the Warden's face. "Man. We're turning in. If some world-ending situation arises, please don't ask us for help." He pulled Fenris from the room without waiting for a _by-your-leave-serahs_. He didn't care. He had told them what was happening, that was all he had come to do in the first place. He could afford to get roped into something else, anything else. Not right now.

He didn't let go of Fenris's hand when they stepped out into the deserted hallway, even though it felt foreign at this point. They hadn't held hands since they'd gotten here. They hadn't held hands since Hawke had helped Fenris back to his feet when they'd landed outside of the Fade.

"What's wrong?"

Fenris shrugged slightly. There was stiffness in his motion, or the lack thereof.

"I know I don't deserve it, Fenris, but tell me, please."

"The lyrium is acting up."

Hawke crashed to a standstill, hand slipping from the elf's. Fenris walked a few more paces before he realized Hawke wasn't following him, and then doubled back.

Not this. Not _now_. Not after they had gotten out of the Fade. It didn't matter how mad Fenris had gotten with him after that, just not _this_. Not now. Lyrium poisoning. Fenris was going to die from lyrium poisoning. That was going to happen. Fenris had told him a couple years ago, when their lives had gotten a little more stable. He hadn't said much, just told him, matter-of-factly, _"it will kill me, Hawke"_. It would have been different if Fenris was _taking_ lyrium. He could have been weaned off it. Stopped being in contact with it. But when it was in his skin, there was nothing that would have stopped it short of stripping his flesh like Danarius had threatened to do so many years ago. As if such a thing were possible. Not that Hawke had even thought about it. It would have killed him, either way.

But this... the slow way it was working now... of course it meant that they had more time together. Which was good. But when it started to act up, it meant Fenris was in constant pain. Even the most gentle of touches could have him tensed in pain. If they were in battle when it happened, if Fenris got hit, it could leave him out of commission. Hawke had never seen it happen. He knew the lyrium was sensitive, but he didn't know how much of it was sensitivity and how much of might have been the lyrium hurting him, back before Hawke had known about the poisoning.

"Hawke. Hawke." Fenris touched at Hawke's shoulder, startling him back into the present. It didn't matter. He'd panic either way.

"Okay, what can I do? Hot bath? That should help the pain, right?"

Fenris was regarding him, but he answered nonetheless. "Yes," he said.

"Okay," Hawke repeated. "I'll get a bath ready. Go sit down."

"I can-"

"Don't be ridiculous, I'm not the one in pain. I'll be right back."

"Hawke..."

"Seriously, it's fine!" He left Fenris standing there alone, going to find the kitchens to heat up water for himself. He knew running a hot bath wasn't going to help the lyrium, wasn't going to help fix everything that he had done. But it was better than inactivity, and, well, maybe it would make Fenris feel better.

Who was he kidding. Nothing was going to help Fenris.

Fenris was dying.

The Nightmare had been right. Fenris was going to die, and there was nothing he could do about it.

It was different. Of course. He knew. This wasn't letting him down, making the wrong choice; it wasn't something he could stop. It would happen whether he liked it or not. But the fact was that it didn't _matter_. All that mattered was that Fenris was going to die.

He wondered if he deserved that.

Keeping the truth from Fenris about the red lyrium, trying to stay in the Fade without bothering to take Fenris's feelings into consideration. He _had_ taken them into consideration - he knew he would be pissed, no doubt about it - but he had gone and done it anyway. It was unfair. It was a problem.

So, maybe he did deserve it.

Maybe he deserved to lose Fenris even after everyone that he had already lost. He had lost Bethany because he hadn't been paying enough attention, too focused on battle to keep an eye on her. He had lost Mother because he had been distracted, out gallivanting town during the day when those precious hours could have been used to find her instead. Even Carver. If Hawke had noticed he was sick... if he hadn't been so cocky about finding the treasure and finding the way out...

And if he hadn't been so _stupid_ with Fenris, maybe Fenris wouldn't be dying, either.

Rationally, Hawke knew he had had nothing to do with it. It didn't matter. It still crawled into his chest and tried to strangle him, the thought of losing the one last person who mattered most to him.

He looked at himself in the small, grimy mirror in the room with the washing tub. The water he'd gotten was hot enough to have steamed up the little mirror. Hawke ran his fingers through the condensation numbly, looking at his reflection. Pale, dark shadows under his eyes. He looked miserable. Only fitting.

Fenris was going to die. One day, Hawke would wake up and Fenris wouldn't. One day, Hawke would be alone, truly and utterly alone. And it was only fitting, and it was _terrifying_.

He scrubbed his hands against his face, pressing his shaking fingers against his eyes. The tears were back, but he dashed them away impatiently. He didn't have time for that. Not for the past fifteen years, he hadn't had time for that. Certainly not now, either.

"Hawke."

Hawke jumped, looking up. He met Fenris's gaze in the mirror for a half second, but even with the distance and the smears of filth against the surface, it was enough to see Fenris making the connection what was going on, why his face was wet, elbows on the small cabinet, shoulders hunched. "Ahhaha..." Hawke scrubbed against his cheeks and straightened up. "Maybe give it a minute, the water's pretty hot. Although you've always been good at hot, so I don't know."

"Hawke..." Fenris stood in the doorway, unmoving. His fingers clenched to fists at his sides, but he didn't move. Even his expression was unreadable.

Hawke flung his hands up. "No, no. I'm fine! Just give me a minute, I swear I'll be alright in a second. You should get ready for your bath, I'll probably go see if-" Arms circled around his torso. He hadn't even heard Fenris move. Oh, Maker. He tried to swallow down the lump in his throat and failed. Oh not this now. If he broke this time, there may be no putting the pieces together again, and they weren't even out of Weisshaupt yet.

"You are a fool, Garrett Hawke," Fenris muttered, pressing his face against his back.

Hawke laughed. Too shaky, too loud. "I know," he gasped.

"I would hit you if I thought it would hurt worse than how much you hurt already," Fenris said. "But further pain would prove needless."

"I'm sorry, you know," Hawke said softly. "I really don't intend to hurt you. I see all this stuff in my mind, I know I'm not doing it right but I can't, I don't know, I can't _not_ do it. I just do it _wrong_ , every time. I know it hurts you and that's really- really not my intention. I just ruin _everything_ I try to associate with. I don't know any better, I guess."

Fenris sighed, his entire body heaving with the motion.

"I'm not making excuses. I'm not trying to. I know I'm an asshole, you _can_ tell me."

"Is that going to help?" Fenris asked, almost cocky. Not quite. Hawke wasn't the only one hurting. Physically and mentally.

Hawke laughed weakly. "... Probably not."

"Your decisions leave much to be desired sometimes."

"I know, I know."

" _Never_ again," Fenris said. "Never."

"Trust me, I don't think I'll be offering to stay in the Fade again anytime soon." Hawke wiped away his tears, trying to be stealthy about it. Fenris was hanging onto him so he had probably already felt the emotion shaking through his body, anyway. "Although I still think Stroud should be the one here," he admitted softly. Might as well go the whole way with this honesty thing. "I shouldn't have... I should have tried to talk him out of it, something. Corypheus was my-"

"No," Fenris interrupted. "You did exactly what you should have. Your responsibility is finished, Hawke. It is time for you to relax. For us to relax."

"And mourn," Hawke added, under his breath, "as usual."

"You would have me mourn your death instead?"

"No." Hawke turned around, drawing Fenris into his arms with just enough presence of mind to be more gentle than usual. "Just preferably we wouldn't have to mourn _anyone's_ death."

"Stroud was a good man. He died to protect us, and the rest at Adamant." Fenris leaned his head on Hawke's chest. "The balance of life is that it gives and takes. Stroud is dead, but you are alive, as am I."

"Yes," Hawke breathed. "That's a good thing. It is."

"Let us enjoy it. _Please_."

Hawke chuckled, leaning away to armslength. "I can't fit into that tub with you, Fen. It's nothing at all like the Inquisitor's."

"No matter." Fenris stretched up on the balls of his feet to kiss him. "Hawke?"

"Yeah?"

"Never again," he repeated against his skin, and pulled away. "I do not feel like giving you an ultimatum, but there should be one. If there is a next time..."

"You have full permission to hit me. Right here." He tapped at his nose. And then he dropped his hand slowly, falling it fall back to his side. "I'm trying, Fen. It's weird getting used to having someone... so close to me again. I'm used to keeping everything in my head, keeping all my problems to myself... All I know is that I don't want to lose you. So if I do some stupid shit..."

"Then I will let you know," Fenris said smoothly, and began to undress. "Do not doubt, Hawke. If you do, you will know."

"Or if I hurt you. In any way."

"Like I said, you will know."

"Good." Hawke's hands clenched and unclenched, watching as Fenris hissed a little at the sting of hot water on his skin. "Are we... good? Me and you?" he asked nervously. Because if Fenris said no? What was he meant to do then? He didn't have an answer.

"We are _okay_ ," Fenris replied, cautiously, even, drawing his knees to his chest.

Hawke nodded. That was fair. And maybe once they got away from Weisshaupt, and had time to themselves for the first time in months, they could get on their way to being _good_ again, and not just _okay_. He was serious. He was trying. And he would keep trying until he got it right or eventually, inevitably, ruined it. He hoped for the former, and couldn't fathom preparing for the second.

So, yeah, _okay_ was fine. They had been through a lot and being okay at the end of it? Hawke would take it.

He would take it, and rebuild it, and make it everything they had before and more. He promised himself and, later that night, arms wrapped loosely around a hurting Fenris, promised it to the sleeping elf as well.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been slacking. But since it's the final chapters, I figured I had an excuse.
> 
> Oh no they are so not good. But they are okay. Which is good in itself.  
> (Seriously could you imagine.)
> 
> The Epilogue is up next, and then this adventure draws to a close!


	18. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Where it all begin.

The survivor's guilt was only somewhat lessened by Fenris being at his side, cutting into his thoughts with soft words and his deep voice whenever Hawke started to stick in his head. He _knew_ he should have stayed... and yet, he was also happy that he did not. It was a strange combination that Hawke wasn't entirely sure what to do with, but he let Fenris talk him out of the darker thoughts when they cropped up.

Weisshaupt got more and more turbulent. Hawke knew that there was something coming, and he didn't plan on being there when it arrived. He wouldn't have been surprised if one faction of the Wardens started a war with the other. He just... expected _something_ , even if he didn't know what.

They had to squeeze together in the small, uncomfortable bed. Hawke didn't mind it. Fenris's hair draped around Hawke's neck as the smaller elf slept half on top of him (mostly on top of him). Hawke's eyes traced the angle of his jawline as his lover slept, and then tilted his head slightly to kiss his forehead. Fenris's nose crinkled, but he didn't wake up. Hawke had woken up from nightmares, and he didn't go back to sleep.

They had been at Weisshaupt too long. They could see the ideas forming in the Wardens minds. If they had the Champion of Kirkwall on their side...

Hawke was about to say something to Fenris about it when Fenris was the one to bring it up, throwing what was left of their things to him across their filthy room. "We need to go," he said, "before this gets any more out of hand."

Hawke caught the cloak, raising an eyebrow. "Are we really stealing away in the middle of the night? The Wardens won't be happy."

"I don't care a fig for what makes the Wardens happy." Fenris flung his own cloak out around him, fastening it under his chin. "We did what we came to do. We have been here too long."

Hawke couldn't argue, and he didn't want to. There was nothing that he could do here, anyway, save fight in a battle that was assuredly brewing, and that sounded less and less appealing by the day.

"Sounds good," he said softly, and pulled the cloak on.

"No arguments?" Fenris didn't look at him. He still sounded surprised.

"Nope. I was about to mention it to you, actually."

"Hmm. Good." He shoved the last of his books into their pack, and stood up. Most of their things had been lost in the past few months, or left with the Inquisition when they had gone to Crestwood and the Approach. Fenris had kept or collected a couple books along the way, but otherwise all that was left was clothes. That made it easier to take off in the middle of the night.

Which they did, employing in Fenris's ability to sneak around without being noticed. And the Wardens didn't stop them. The Wardens didn't even know they'd gone (until too late, Hawke suspected).

They ended up in a little town on the border of Nevarra and Orlais, a place Hawke didn't know the name of. He preferred it that way. He didn't know them and they didn't know him. They got a room and a bed and hot dinner and managed to find a job, even, to replenish their dwindling (dwindled) finances.

His newest staff had a large rune inset into the wood, and it was extremely satisfying to hear the crack of it over the slaver's head. _That_ would never get old, watching a slaver crumble.

"I cannot offer you coin, but there is freedom if you wish to take it. It will be difficult, but a new life is possible. I have seen the defeat, and clawed my way back from it." Fenris pulled the scarf away from his face, exposing his lyrium markings to the frightened slaves. "You can as well. You need to follow the path. The rest is up to you." He gestured to the path and then swung around to rejoin Hawke.

For not the first or the last time, Hawke was insanely proud of him.

"Wait, messere!" one of the men called. "We don't even know your name."

Fenris glanced over his shoulder. "... Fenris. My name is Fenris."

"Creators bless you, Master Fenris!"

"No," Fenris said. "You will call no one that any longer," he said defiantly, and stopped at Hawke's side. He looked up at him. "All clear?"

"All dead and bodies looted, serah," Hawke replied, giving him a one-fingered salute that Fenris shook his head at. "Your name is going to be famous, you know."

"My name is already famous, thanks to Danarius," Fenris pulled his hood up, and padded for the village gates.

"More than that. You won't just be... one of some asshole magister's pet projects. You could lead a rebellion, Fenris."

"I would not wish for leading a rebellion," Fenris replied.

Hawke hummed in thought. "Whether or not you want it, you're already doing it, on a smaller scale. Killing slavers, freeing slaves, teaching them that they don't have to be bound to slavery their whole lives? That's _how_ rebellions start."

"You would know something about that."

"I would and I do," Hawke said. "But I'm serious, Fen. It's going to get back to Tevinter that Danarius's former slave is now free and on a mission. Don't tell me you wouldn't like that."

"To be the center of attention? Hardly."

"To scare the shit out of everyone in Tevinter by supporting slave freedom."

"I am just a small cog in the machine, Hawke."

"Yeah," Hawke said, "but so was I."

Now Fenris hummed as he swept his hair behind an ear. "To put the fear of a true uprising into the heart of Tevinter... would not be unwelcome. Unlikely," he added bluntly, "but the thought does bring a smile to my face."

"Really? _That's_ a smile? What's the frown look like then?"

Fenris silenced him with a sharp jab to the ribcage, and Hawke laughed as they headed back for their bounty. _There_ was the smile Fenris had been talking about.

They found themselves in Jader after taking up reins again. It wasn't the most ideal place - too populated - but Hawke was finding that the tale of the Champion seemed less important after the Inquisitor Lavellan story had begun to make its rounds. Everyone was star struck with the Inquisition as of late (something about Empress Celene?), and Hawke would let them be. If that meant he and Fenris could walk down the street without getting odd looks (within reason, whenever Fenris didn't bother to hide his markings, they got strange looks regardless), he would happily leave that fame to the Inquisitor.

It was never about the fame, anyway, but, well. People had to talk.

Hawke gave them a different reason to talk, kissing Fenris in the middle of the bazaar when they went to search for a fix to their armor after a demon attack. They got strange looks and a few titters, even; was it that strange for two men to kiss in public daylight? Kirkwall had been, well, Kirkwall. They had never really had a problem. And they weren't going to have a problem now, either. If someone had the nerve to say anything to them...

They didn't.

At least, not until Fenris pressed too far into the kiss, Hawke staggered over a crate, and fell backwards into a display of dried fruit. Fenris had stood there in the small crowd that had gathered like he was just another onlooker, hand over his mouth so his smile wouldn't betray him. All Hawke knew was that he found a dried plum in his pants later that night (and, sadly, no, not a euphemism; Fenris had gone into chuckles that he had desperately tried to cover up while Hawke watched on in glee).

The cold caught up with Hawke when they hit the snow the next time. One minute, he was hauling his tired body up over a felled tree, the next, he was waking up with his head in Fenris's lap and boy, was his head pounding.

"Didn't think I was sick," he muttered, rubbing at the throbbing beneath his forehead.

"You couldn't tell you were sick," Fenris repeated disbelievingly.

"It was a just a little headache. Tired. That happens, I mean, with the nightmares." He shrugged a little, and palmed his forehead. "Am I hot?"

"Sweltering, Hawke."

"Ugh... it comes on slow with me, that's why I didn't notice." He hauled himself up and shook his head. "I'm fine, for now. Need to find somewhere to stay until it passes, though."

Fenris nodded. "Of course. Can you stand?"

"Yeah, yeah, for now."

The fever came on slow and then all at once, and Hawke was lucky that Fenris managed to scout out an old abandoned cabin to stick around in until it passed. He fell face first into the bed without caring about what may have been in it, and he was pretty sure that he lost time in between.

"I'm worried about you," Fenris said, wiping at his forehead with a damp cloth.

"I'll be fine, 'm just..." He waved his hand wearily, tensing up as another round of shivers tore at his skin.

"I am not well equipped to take care of you here." Fenris paused, and then continued, hesitantly, "We could go to Skyhold...".

They could. They were close, too close for comfort, really, and Hawke guessed that if anyone could and would help them, it would be the Inquisition, but... "And risk giving away ourselves?" Hawke coughed. "No one knows... where we are. 's keep it that way," he mumbled. "... be okay, jus' needa sleep."

"You have two more days to improve before I make a different decision," Fenris said, and Hawke couldn't argue.

He was more lucid on the second day, just enough to keep Fenris placated. The fever broke on the third. They stayed there for another week before moving on.

Sure, Hawke would have liked to go back to Skyhold, maybe catch up with the Inquisitor, the companions, and Varric... let them all know that they were alright... but he was also being honest when he said he wanted to keep it the way it was. No one could bother them if no one knew where they were, or even if they were still alive. It was cruel, maybe. But some part of himself (one that sounded suspiciously like Fenris's voice) said it was their turn to be selfish.

Corypheus was still out there. If they went back to Skyhold now, they might end up there for the final battle. And as much as Hawke _did_ want to be there, he wouldn't take that risk again. Not now, he thought, glancing over at Fenris reaching for a little wooden figure sitting upon a shelf in the curio shop. Not this time.

They walked out hand-in-hand, Hawke's free hand clutching at the little wooden mabari Fenris had just bartered for (a gift, he said _"you buy me gifts all the time, Hawke"_ ).

They kept moving until they were closer to an old, familiar place than they were farther.

The season was beginning to change, and Hawke let the cool air sweep his hair out of his eyes, contemplating the scenery. Fenris was coming back into their camp, he could hear him grumbling as he brought back dinner of whatever fish he had caught (he wouldn't grumble if he hadn't actually _caught_ a fish). Hawke turned around and smiled at the elf as he entered, giving a little wave. "You caught fish!" he praised, getting to his feet.

"After a struggle," Fenris replied curtly, and Hawke pretended he didn't notice how Fenris was wet up to his kneecaps. He was certain it was a good story, but he didn't need to ask.

"Get ready for dinner and I'll get this cooked up." He took the fish from Fenris, giving him an out to go change while he prepared it. They argued over the latest installment of _Swords & Shields_ ( _"it is not physically possible, Hawke." "I can 100% prove that it is."_ ) and ate, and Hawke regarded the sunset thoughtfully.

"Lothering's less than a day from here. Or, where Lothering was, anyway," he said, tucking a few strands of unruly hair behind his ear. He really needed that haircut.

Fenris didn't look up. He tucked the last of his hair into the bun at the back of his head, and leaned forward to prod the fire and warm his hands. "Is it?" he asked, nonchalantly.

"Like you didn't know," Hawke accused teasingly, bumping his leg into the elf's. "Sometimes I'm certain you know where things are more than I do."

Fenris shrugged. "I wasn't going to say anything."

"I thought you wanted to go to Lothering."

"I only want to go if you do." Fenris leaned back, and propped his elbows on his knees. "There is no pressure."

Hawke nodded. "I know, but..." he trailed off. Picked up again when Fenris turned his green eyes on him. "I think I'd like to... go back. I mean, I know there's nothing, but I feel like, it's been, what, twelve years or something? Seems like a day ago, really, feeling the fire on my back and the demons howling in the distance..."

Fenris's gaze was turning darker, looking all ready to combat Hawke's decision even though he had suggested it months ago. Probably to keep Hawke safe, not to press him any further than he already was.

Hawke kept going. "But I think it'll be okay. Going back. With you. I don't think I'd want to root around in the remains of my childhood if you weren't with me, so, uh. Would you...?"

"I am with you, Hawke. Wherever you go."

"Thanks, love." He kissed his cheek, running his arms around his stomach. "Where do we go after this? Back to claim ownership of the old cottage?"

"Or find a new one," Fenris said, leaning his head against Hawke's.

"We could do that, couldn't we? Harder to do without steady income, though, unless we find something abandoned again." Varric was usually in charge of what was left of Hawke's finances, even managing to get money to them wherever they were to keep them happy.

"We can contact Varric, if you'd like."

Hawke shook his head. "Nah. I mean, I can't lie to him forever."

"No," Fenris agreed.

"But this is nice." He gestured around. "Well, maybe not _that_ ," jabbing to the hive of bees less than ten feet away, he'd been stung more than once already, "but being under the radar like this is... actually nice. Besides, me and you made our own lives without having money from an expedition for awhile. We can do it again."

Fenris nodded.

"As long as I'm with you, I can do anything~" Hawke chirped.

"Okay, messere sentimental."

Sentimental indeed, the sick feeling clawing at the back of his throat as he stepped down the familiar road into Lothering. Everything was just as he remembered. Except for the broken down buildings and burnt landscape, even after all of these years. It looked like a warzone. Probably because it was.

"Um, well. Welcome home, Fenris," he said, gesturing with open arms.

"You don't need to joke about it."

"No, I think I really do," Hawke murmured, starting forward. He still remembered it all. Even though it was broken down and beaten, and the land was still dark and the air thick with the smell of... whatever it was. The Blight, death, fire. He still remembered it all.

Lothering had never been much. Agricultural, if anything. Sort of like Redcliffe was, but different. But it had been home. It had been _home_.

"One of my good friends used to live here. And there used to be an orchard over here, of sorts. It wasn't big, but we had apples and oranges and, um... well, I don't even remember now. It was different, when I was a kid. Um, what else..."

Fenris reached for Hawke's arm, looping it with his own. Hawke slowly wound his arm around Fenris's waist the further that they went through Lothering. It was so unreal... that this had been his home once. He had been longing for Kirkwall for so long that he had almost forgotten how much he missed his real home. But to see it like this... he had seen it, watched people die as he had ushered his family out of the town, desperate to get to safety. He had thought that they were some of the only people to get out, and he still thought that, but it was... different, seeing it all firsthand.

"This was my house," Hawke breathed.

Fenris followed his gaze to the charred remains of what had been his family's home - the Hawke "estate" before Hawke had realized what an estate looked like - and said nothing.

"I know it looks like nothing, but..." Hawke pushed open the broken down door, and winced as it fell off the rusted hinges with a crash. "Whoops. Father's probably rolling in his grave," he said softly, stepping over it. "Come on." He held his hand back to Fenris, waiting on him through the doorway. "So... this way, this way was the kitchen and dining room... my room and the twin's room was over there... parents were across the hall..." There weren't even individual rooms anymore, but Hawke could remember. Remember where each one of them was. Remember when Mother and Father had decorated for the holidays and kissed (them all) under the mistletoe. Remember when Bethany had set fire to her and Carver's bed and Hawke had been the one to charge in and put it out (when their parents hadn't even been _home_ ). Remember where they had buried their first pet, a stray dog that they had adopted, in the backyard, marked it with a pile of stones and flowers. Remember when the soldiers came to warn them to run for their lives.

"It sounds like a nice place," Fenris said, and Hawke shook away the hallucinations, the memories made real by his imagination.

He swallowed and leaned his head against Fenris's. "Yeah. It was. Don't think I could have asked for a better place to grow up."

"It must have been nice to have a family." Fenris paused. "Or, at least, one that you can remember."

"I wish you could have met everybody, here. Even Father." Hawke stumbled through the rubble, stomping to where his old room had been. There was nothing at all, not even a toy he recognized. He guessed that happened.

He had expected nothing. So why did that hurt so much?

"The land still has not recovered," Fenris remarked, looking through the skeletons of the building to the rest of Lothering.

"I doubt it will. Maybe eventually, but it's already been more than a decade and it looks like it all happened weeks, months ago, not years." Hawke tapped his fingers against the beams. "That's why I never bothered to come back."

"Thank you for bringing me. Hawke."

Hawke laughed humorlessly, drawing the elf closer to him. He needed him close, needed him there to ground him, as usual, remind himself that this was the past and that his future was so much better and brighter. "Thanks for making me come back." He sensed Fenris about to protest, so he continued. "I just mean... giving me the courage to come back." Being vulnerable was not default, and the words oozed with awkwardness.

"Oh." Fenris nodded. "You are welcome."

"It's not, well, _good_ , but it's nice to get to... accept the past. Shake off the cobwebs."

"Yes. It is difficult," he said, looking around. "No matter the situation."

"At least I have a good present," Hawke said. "Mother was happy for me... me and you. Don't think Carver cares one way or another, but Bethany would have liked you. And Father, well... I don't know much about that. He was more pro-mage than I was, but less cocky." He laughed slightly, tightening his grip around Fenris. "Let's go out."

Fenris led the way out, holding onto Hawke's hand as they stepped over the splintered wood. "We can leave, if you wish."

"Maybe just a little longer," Hawke said softly.

"As long as you need, Hawke."

"And then we'll go home."

"And then we'll go home," Fenris repeated.

Hawke hung onto Fenris's hand, and kissed him in the remains of his old city, and tasted the promise of a different future, hope that wasn't fleeting and lyrium fingers that traced vows of however much time they had, they had it together against his skin.

"I remain at your side," Hawke said, pressing a grin against Fenris's skin as he repeated the words that had been said to him so many times before. He never tired of them.

Fenris kissed his forehead, and pulled away. Smiling. "We remain together."

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, the epilogue. I want to thank you all so much for sticking with this story! It's almost got 200 kudos??? I'm so late to this fandom and I love the support for all of my random dabbling in the FenHawke subset of this fandom... you all are so kind! I love this fandom dearly, and Fenris and Hawke's relationship means so much to me.
> 
> Hoping you all liked this story! Thanks for hanging around and keep a look out for future FenHawke fic from me! :)


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